My Beloved Monster
by juliedean
Summary: Beth is picked up from the road by the Winchester brothers. Dean and Sam, with Beth's help, will attempt to save Cas and get through the trials to close the gates of hell and end the apocalypse. TWD canon until 4x13, SPN takes place during S8 but it will be DIFFERENT from the show (different trials etc.) Rated M for lang, violence and adult themes.
1. Riding in Cars with Men

**Chapter 1: Riding in Cars with Men**

"How bad is it? Can you sew it up, Sammy?" asked a gravelly voice she didn't recognize.

Her eyes were closed but the world was still spinning behind her eyelids. Her head was pounding so badly that she couldn't even take stock of the other aches and pains in her body.

Suddenly Beth felt a hand on her leg. She kicked out fiercely on instinct and her foot connected with something hard. Her blue eyes opened and she tried to take in her surroundings while her vision swam. The last thing she remembered was being encircled by walkers on the road.

"Well, she's awake," came a muffled voice.

She was half-laying and half-sitting on a black leather seat in the back of a car. Two strange men were sitting in the front seat. One with dark blonde hair was driving and shooting glances at her in the rearview mirror. The other, with shaggy brown hair who had just spoken, was wiping blood from his lip where she had apparently just kicked him.

"It's okay. We're not going to hurt you. We just had to get you out of there," said the man she had kicked.

Neither of them had weapons in their hands, which was comforting. But when she reached for her weapons, and noticed that her knife and gun were both missing, Beth got worried again.

The man in the drivers seat saw her eye flicking around and spoke up, "Took your weapons for now, so you wouldn't stab one of us when you woke up. Looking at my brother's face makes me think it was a good decision."

One part of Beth felt really bad about kicking that man in the face but another part of her, one that couldn't stop thinking of the Governor, told her that she should reserve her judgments until she knew for sure who these men were. The last thing she remembered was waiting for Daryl on the dark road when walkers overwhelmed her. She must have been asleep for several hours since it was now daytime.

Daryl was nowhere to be seen now.

"Where is he?" was the first thing she asked, narrowing her eyes at the strangers.

The two men glanced at each other with furrowed brows. "Who?" asked the one she had kicked.

"Daryl. The man I was with on the street. Where is he?" Beth repeated, fighting the urge to shut her eyes to try to lessen her dizziness.

"Unless you named one of those croats that was trying to eat you, your friend wasn't there sweetheart," growled the short haired man as he swerved around several broken down cars in the road.

"What is a croat?"

"The zombies walking around trying to eat everything that moves, maybe you noticed them," the driver's voice was laced with sarcasm as he gestured out the window.

"Daryl isn't a walker. He was meeting me on the road, he was right behind me," Beth said, feeling slightly irritated at this stranger for treating her like an idiot while she was starting to panic about Daryl.

"I'm sorry but… there wasn't anyone else out there with you…" the man with long hair who she had kicked looked genuinely sorry to tell her that. "We just happened to be driving by and saw you running. You tripped, went down hard and hit your head on the pavement. The croats—uh walkers—" he switched to her term quickly, "surrounded you and were out cold. So we slashed some heads, got you in the car, and hightailed it out of there. There must have been at least 50 croats out there, probably more on the way. We didn't see anyone else."

Beth knew that Daryl would have berated her for trusting strangers so easily but it was hard not to trust this man with long brown hair so similar to Daryl's. She couldn't explain why she trusted him, other than the fact that he had kind eyes. Her daddy had always said that you could read people's souls through their eyes if you knew what to look for.

"We have to go back," she looked out the back window as if she expected see Daryl running right behind the moving car.

"There's nothing back there," insisted the driver darkly, pressing even harder on the gas.

"Daryl is back there. He would have survived, would have gotten out. He'll be lookin' for me," she pressed. There was no doubt in her mind that Daryl was still alive and that he would search for her.

"He's gone. We can't go back," the driver growled again.

The man in the passenger seat, now with a little bit of dried blood on his lip, said nothing but his brow was furrowed in concern.

"If you won't take me, I understand. Please just stop the car, give me my weapons back and tell me how long you have been driving," Beth begged. Her head was still whirling but she could try to find a working car and drive back slowly and carefully.

"You hit your head, hard, probably have a concussion. And you need stitches in that leg," the man she had kicked pointed one finger down at the calf he had been touching when she woke up. Beth just now noticed the blood-soaked towel lying on the floor beneath her leg and the rip in her jeans that were also stained red.

She folded forward and inspected the cut on her calf, suddenly worried that it might be a bite that she had gotten when she blacked out. It was just a gash and as she looked at it, she remembered tripping over a barbed wire fence as she was running away from the funeral home.

Old barbed wire, on the ground, in the zombie apocalypse. Great.

"Well, unless you've got a tetanus shot hidden up your sleeve, you won't be able to do anything for me that I can't do for myself," she said. Her cut was probably already infected but she knew enough from years of working beside her father to fix herself up.

She saw the driver's eyebrows shoot up in surprise at her words and he asked in disbelief, "Are you gonna stitch up your leg yourself?"

"I've stitched up worse on animals. So unless one of you is a doctor…" Beth matched his previous sarcasm as she leaned back along the seat again. Sitting hunched over her leg was making it feel like her brain was going to explode.

The two strange men looked at each other, half exasperated and half amused.

"Got an ID that says I am," the driver said under his breath to his brother with a small laugh, "But you want to do it yourself, I'm not going to stop you. Until then, wrap that leg back up so you don't bleed on my baby's seats."

"I'll do it for you, just lean back," said the other man. He leaned over the front seat and grabbed a clean towel from the floor of the car. Gently, he wrapped the towel around her calf and tied it off tightly to apply pressure. "We'll clean that out for you when we stop and then I can sew it up—or you can," he smiled and the action made his eyes crinkle.

"I can't wait for that, just let me out here. I have to go back for him," she knew she needed to go back but her head hurt even while she was lying down across the back seat. She had no idea if she would be able to walk on her own.

But she wouldn't just leave Daryl.

"We've already been driving for almost—" the driver glanced down at the clock on the dashboard before continuing, "—10 hours. At 70 miles per hour. Now math wasn't exactly my best subject but I don't think you want to walk that far on a bum leg with a head that probably feels like an elephant is tap dancing on it."

"We will stop soon and we can figure out something then," the man with the long hair assured her.

"Gotta be a motel in the next town," the driver nodded his head at one of the blue 'Lodging' highway signs that was still intact.

Beth wanted to argue more. Wanted to tell them to turn around now. But she knew arguing was useless right now since she couldn't exactly threaten these men without any weapons. So she slumped back on the seat and closed her eyes. She couldn't sleep in this car with two strange men but the blackness inside her eyelids felt much better than the blinding sunlight from outside.

She didn't think these strangers would hurt her but she thought of Andrea and suddenly got scared. Andrea had trusted the Governor, let her guard down and even slept with the man. However, he had been lying to her the entire time. Thinking of Andrea made her eyes pop open again. Tyreese had opened up to Beth one morning when they were doing laundry together, Judith napping in her makeshift crib nearby. Tyreese liked being around Judith and Beth always thought he had such a gentle soul despite his tough exterior. Tyreese needed to vent and Beth was a good listener… even when he described how they found Andrea and how the Governor had tortured and killed her.

Beth tried to convince herself that if these men wanted to hurt her they would have just let her die on the street or they would have her tied up in the trunk.

She wanted to trust people. To believe that people were good.

But there was a tiny seed of doubt in the back of her mind.

She realized she didn't even know their names and they hadn't bothered to ask for hers. Beth glanced over to where the two men sat silently in the front seat. The car was maneuvering through the cluttered streets of town now and Beth could hear music coming out of the car speakers at a very low volume. Somehow, that quiet, barely there sound of guitar comforted her.

"Thank you," she said quietly. Both men turned around looking a little surprised so she spoke louder the second time, "Thank you for saving my life back there. You could have just driven by and left me… so thanks."

The men looked at each other. The one with long hair smiled and the driver made some sort of appreciative face that somehow was a smile even though the corner of his lips turned down.

She took the brief moment to take in how clean they both looked. The men were fairly well shaven, their clothes were worn but not dirty, and the car was in perfect condition. They definitely did not live out of their car, they had a house or town or some sort of permanent place to live like she used to have at the prison. Beth realized that she had absolutely nothing right now—no spare clothes, no backpack, no food, no journal, and no weapons. Just the dirty, bloodied, ripped clothes on her back.

She sent a silent prayer up to her dad in heaven, something she had done a lot since fleeing the prison. She always prayed that her other friends and family members from the prison were safe. This time though, she added a prayer for herself too. She prayed that these men were good and that she would be safe with them until she got back to her family.

Satisfied that praying was all she could do in her situation right now, she tried to remember the southern manners her parents had taught her, "I'm Beth, by the way. Well, Elizabeth Greene, but no one ever calls me that."

The man in the passenger seat turned around to face her again as the car pulled into a hotel parking lot. "I'm Sam," he said with a smile.

She confidently held out her hand to him and his smile got bigger. The brother in the driver's seat snorted when he glanced at her outstretched hand in the rearview mirror. However, Sam stuck his huge hand over the seat and shook hers politely with a small chuckle, "It's… uh… nice to meet you Beth."

There were callouses on his hands that ran deep and she could feel that his grip was strong enough to snap her wrist in two if he wanted. It was obvious that he spent many years doing hard work with his hands.

The car jerked to a stop, Beth noticed that Sam's brother had pulled the car into a spot backwards so he could drive off quickly without needing to turn around. Without introducing himself, he opened the driver's side door with a loud creak and got out. Sam followed and Beth stumbled out of the backdoor on Sam's side. However, she moved too quickly and the entire world turned into a blur. Sam gripped her biceps and firmly held her to keep her from falling over. The driver spared one small look of panicked concern before his face turned back into an irritated mask when he saw she wasn't going to fall.

"You okay?" Sam asked her, lightening his grip on her arms.

Beth nodded up at the man who she now realized towered at least a foot over her and said, "Thanks" in a shy voice while trying not to blush.

The unnamed driver put his own hands on his back and she heard a loud crack as he popped his spine.

"You'll have to excuse my very rude brother," Sam announced in a louder voice that carried over the top of the car as he dropped his hands from her arm and let her stand on her own.

The brother with shorter, lighter hair rolled his eyes at Sam. But then he smiled with forced courtesy and said, "I'm Dean Winchester."

/

 **A/N: Hey lovely readers!** **Thanks for reading, please please please favorite, review and follow!**

 **In true Supernatural spirit, all of the chapter titles will be references to movies/songs etc. If you get the reference please post a review so I know if people actually understand them!**

 **I wasn't sure if people would like a cross over story but I have several chapters already written for this story so if people show interest I will post updates VERY quickly.**

Couple of general things as part of the beginning of the story:

As stated in the summary, this story takes place after 4x13 in the TWD universe and around the beginning of season 8 SPN.

Why season 8? Just because that was what I was watching when this story popped into my head.

There will be explanations later on about HOW the apocalypse came about

Hope you liked this chapter and feel like everything was In Character (I wrote this before I saw SPN 8x12 "As time goes by" and I feel like Dean and Sam act JUST like this with Henry.)

This story will be rated M because of slow burn, eventual smut between Beth and one of our favorite brothers—which Winchester will just have to be a surprise that you discover as you go along.

 **If you read my other story "A New Normal" do not fear, I will keep writing that one too but this story was in my head and demanded that it get written so I couldn't resist**.

If anyone is interested in being a beta, I would love you forever! I could really use someone with SPN knowledge to help bounce ideas off of.

As always: I don't own anything Supernatural or Walking Dead related, I am just a fan enjoying the gruesome worlds that Kripke and Kirkman created.

 **Reviews, favorites and follows make me happier than Dean when someone actually brings him pie.**


	2. Snitches get stitches and end up in…

Thank you so much to all of the readers for the first chapter and for the support!

EXTRA big thank you shout out to those who reviewed: SarahCullen4, TheRealDarlaCooper, dixie326, thehelper900, Blue-10-Spades. And to those who PMed me with questions (I won't post your name in the shout outs in case you wanted to keep your name private in the messages.) Anyone who writes knows how indescribably good it feels to get those little favorite/follow/review messages!

To address some questions real quick: Yes, Castiel will be in the story, be patient babies! Yes, I know that they are never called "zombies" in the TWD world but it felt very DEAN in that moment and I always thought Kirkman's explanation of TWD being in a universe where no one had ever heard the word zombie before felt really weak… but from here on out they will be called "croats" or "walkers" depending on what POV we are in.

Unfortunately, I do not own anything TWD/SPN related. I am merely a fan exploring the horrific worlds created by Kirkman and Kripke.

/

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 **Chapter 2: Snitches get stitches and end up in… bunkers**

Twenty minutes later, after the Winchester brothers had checked the small room for walkers and secured the windows and door, she perched on a dusty old motel bedspread with her left pant leg rolled up to her knee. Sam was towering over her at the foot of the bed with a real medical suture kit.

"I expected a needle and some floss," she joked when she saw him pull the still sealed kit out of a duffle bag.

"I've done that before. It actually works pretty well. But I thought I'd give you the good stuff," he quipped as he ducked into his bag to search for something else.

Dean seemed completely oblivious to their conversation. He had several guns and knives spread out on the small table in the corner of the room and was cleaning and checking over the weapons. She noticed that he included her own gun in the process. Even though she had run out of ammo while fleeing the prison weeks ago Beth had managed to hang onto the weapon, hoping that she would eventually find more ammo. The knife from her belt was also sitting on the pile, but she was really surprised to see the small knife that had been tucked into her boot. She leaned over and surreptitiously checked in her right boot.

"Yeah, we found that one already," Dean said without even looking up from the gun he had already disassembled in his hands.

"I can see that," she responded, trying to keep her voice cheerful instead of nervous, "You guys thought of everything."

"When you spend your whole life around weapons, you learn all the best hiding places," his voice was gravelly.

Before she could think of a response to that, Sam had found what he was looking for in his bag and had stepped to block her view of Dean. She watched Sam splash some water from the bottle on his hands and then he handed it to her. Beth's mouth was dry and she gratefully pulled the bottle up to her lips.

That's when she got a whiff of it. Her nose burned painfully and she pulled it quickly away from her face.

"You ever gotten stitches without anesthetic before?" Sam asked her with raised eyebrows when she tried to pass the bottle back to him.

"I'll be fine," she insisted, still waving the liquor at him.

"I've had my fair share of cuts, and that is an especially jagged and nasty one you've got. Trust me, a couple shots will take the edge off," he insisted.

"I don't… uh… I don't drink," she stated with as much certainty as she could muster. Giving up trying to hand the bottle to Sam, she capped it and just set it down on the bed next to her.

Dean snorted loudly from the corner in disbelief, "Look Sammy, we found a teenager that doesn't drink! It's better than finding a unicorn!"

"Don't be a jerk Dean," the taller brother said bending over to pick up the bottle. "Ignore him," he said gently to Beth. "It'll be a lot more painful, but it'll be fine."

She nodded and stretched out to grab one of the pillows from the head of the bed while Sam pulled over the other chair from the table and settled into it at the foot.

Sam opened the suture kit and poured a generous amount of the alcohol onto her leg. She hissed when it burned but didn't flinch away.

"Ready?" he asked skeptically, poised with the needle in his hand.

"Just do it please." Beth knew she needed stitches if this cut on her leg had any hope of healing and she just wanted it to be done as quickly as possible.

He looked at her, took one long pull from the bottle himself and then dug the needle into her skin with a muttered, "Sorry about this."

The needle tugged through her skin over and over. It was excruciating. Beth wanted to scream and kick. She felt like she would be willing to search every single room of every single hospital in America for some kind of anesthetic right now.

Tears streamed down her face but she stayed as quiet as possible. She didn't want to scream and attract walkers. Plus, Dean kept shooting glances up at her from the table and for some reason she didn't want him to think she was weak.

Sam's hands were gentle but didn't falter once.

"Done this a lot, huh?" she asked him through gritted teeth, hoping for a distraction.

He let out a breathy chuckle, "You could say that. Had to stitch up my own stomach once, 47 stitches."

"On yourself?" she asked aghast. "Why couldn't someone else do it for you?" Her eyes flicked to Dean but she didn't dare ask out loud.

"Sam is the Florence Nightingale around here. I'm more like… Batman in this operation," Dean bragged.

"You run around in tights?" she laughed when she pictured someone running around in tights to get away from walkers.

Sam guffawed and Dean looked simultaneously irritated and impressed with his lips turned down in an exaggerated frown.

"No. I save people from things that go bump in the night and drive an awesome car. Just think of it as The Batmobile," he tried to recover.

There was a large bump and loud growling from outside. "Speaking of bumps… I guess that's your calling card, Batman," Sam chortled with his eyes still on her leg.

Dean picked up one of the weapons lying on the table and headed for the door muttering under his breath, "I could pull off tights if I wanted to…"

Beth couldn't see out of the window from where she was sitting on the bed but if she had to judge based on the sound of the growls, she would guess there were probably five or more walkers out there. Sam didn't even look concerned that his brother was going out there, alone and with only one machete.

When Sam got to the widest part of the cut, he had to pull the skin taught and she pressed the pillow into her mouth to keep from screaming.

"Sorry Beth. I'm almost done," Sam said quietly with sympathetic green eyes.

"Maybe I should have taken that drink. I have gotten drunk before," she began, thinking of the moonshine shack with Daryl. Even though that was only a few weeks ago, it felt like that happened a lifetime ago. And it felt strange to be talking to someone who wasn't Daryl after they had been on their own for so long. However, talking was distracting her. "Had some trouble finding something to drunk actually. A walker got my bottle of wine and the peach schnapps got smashed. Ending up getting drunk on moonshine actually and burnt down an old shack with Daryl. The moonshine tasted absolutely awful, like what I imagine nail polish remover would taste like. But being drunk was fun… I can see why people do it, all my problems… and even walkers, didn't seem so bad anymore," she babbled and smiled at the memory.

Dean had walked back inside the room and caught the tail end of her talking to Sam. The blade was dripping with dark walker blood but his clothes didn't even look ruffled. He locked the door behind him and clomped over to the table again.

"That's the point of drinking, sweetheart. To forget your problems," Dean scoffed.

"How many walkers were out there?" she asked, ignoring his commentary.

"Seven," Dean acknowledged indifferently.

"Think they were just stragglers or is there more?" Beth was in business mode now. It was automatic now after her weeks with Daryl. There were times when he would indulge her and let her chatter about whatever was in her head, but there were other times when she knew that they needed to talk logistics and safety.

"Just stragglers, I didn't hear anymore coming," he grunted back. "How're those stitches coming?"

"Almost done," Sam replied with another tug at her leg.

Her leg was still agonizing but when she glanced down, she realized that he was just finishing the last stitch. There were 18 little knots that were tight and evenly spaced. "What did you do before all this? Were you a surgeon or something?"

"No. I was going to be a lawyer," he answered with a nervous glance over his shoulder at his brother. "All done. Just keep them out of the water and I can take them out for you in a few days."

"I can take them out myself. Thank you for doing that though Sam," she said smiling up at him and tossing the pillow back where it belonged. Her muscles slowly relaxed—she had tensed up while Sam had stitched her up—and she realized how sore she was from fighting off walkers last night.

"You were a good patient," Sam flashed her a quick, toothy grin, put the bottle of liquor back in the duffle bag and pulled out a map that he opened up on the second bed.

Her head was still pounding and she wanted to sleep. But even though she didn't think these men would hurt her, Beth couldn't bring herself to fully let her guard down. So instead of sleeping, she just lay down on the bed, closed her eyes and willed her head to stop spinning. The small blonde tried to count the seconds in order to take her mind off of the pain.

After she had counted to 1,294, she heard Sam and Dean begin conversing in very low voices.

"Figure out where Kevin could be hiding yet?" Dean grumbled.

Beth didn't move. They were speaking so quietly that they must think she was asleep. Maybe she could figure out more about these strangers if she stayed completely still.

"We've been through this Dean. He's not at any of our safe houses, not at Garth's, we've checked everything that had to do with Kevin's family or old life and any hunter who knew about him. We've been looking for him for years… it… it might be time to move on," whispered Sam.

"And what if Crowley got him?"

"If Crowley has him, Kevin is probably being hidden in the darkest parts of Hell already. If Crowley has him, only the angels would be able to pull him out."

"Angels aren't gonna do shit for us," Dean scoffed. "Cass is… Cass is gone. And the rest of them are just self serving dicks."

"I can't do any of my normal research without news reports and the internet. That place off of Jekyll Island was that last place of Garth's I know of. We've already been through everywhere else in of our records," Sam sounded like he was reading from a script, as if they had already had this discussion numerous times. "I'm out of ideas, Dean."

"He was our responsibility," Dean sounded pained. His voice dropped another octave as if he was only talking to himself now, "Stopping this Croatoan virus, closing the gates to hell permanently, getting Cass out of purgatory… that's all on me."

Sam corrected with an exasperated, "Us."

Beth was seriously confused. What did he mean by 'closing the gates of hell'? She kept counting in her head both to keep herself calm and make sure her breathing remained even.

"We'll go back to the bunker. There has to be something else we're missing," Dean said with an air of grasping at straws. "Maybe we can summon one of Crowley's flunkeys at a crossroads. Trap the black-eyed bitch and torture her until she tells us if Crowley has Kevin. Or maybe one of them will know how to get back into Purgatory to Cass."

"Okay Dean, we'll check the books again," Sam's voice seemed half-hearted though.

And he didn't seem to have any problem with Dean's suggestion of torturing people for information.

She felt her heart pick up in speed as it pounded violently against her rib cage.

A vision of her sister and Glenn popped into her head. Beth knew that the Governor had tortured them for information about the prison—her sister came back from that experience a hollow, sad woman and Glenn's face had been so swollen and bruised that she hardly recognized him.

She forced herself to stay completely still. If she got spooked now, she had no idea what would happen. They hadn't hurt her yet… but it was clear that these men were extremely dangerous.

"What are we going to do about her?" Sam's voice was almost inaudible.

Beth almost stopped breathing altogether. But she compelled herself to keep the rhythm of her breaths the same, breathing in for five counts and then out for six. They were going to discuss what to do with her and if their talk of trapping and torturing people was any indication, she was not going to like their plans for her.

Dean sighed, "I don't know Sam. She's just a kid. Southern Barbie who still shakes hands and probably curtsies. We can't just let her go, but I don't like the idea of having Suzanne Somers tagging along for us to take care of too."

"Well, finding that guy she was with is going to be impossible, if he's even still alive. Maybe we can just let her stay in the bunker…" Sam mused, and she heard the crinkling of paper as he folded his map back up.

"We lock her in and you think she'll just dust the bookshelves and bake some apple pie while we try to kill the King of Hell?" Beth didn't need to open her eyes and see him to hear that Dean's voice dripped with sarcasm.

There was loud growling from outside again and Beth took it as her opportunity to pretend to wake up. She was no longer remotely tired and she didn't think she could hold still and pretend to sleep anymore. Her head was aching worse than before with all this new information.

Sam had shuffled over to the window and reported, "Just a few dozen passing by, they didn't hear us."

Beth could tell from the angle of the sun coming into the room that it was still only midafternoon. She vaguely wondered if these men would ever let their guard down and go to sleep so she could come up with a plan.

/

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A/N: When I was proof reading this, I became terrified that people would think that nothing happened in this chapter. However, there are a lot of HINTS about what will happen next, setting up long-term plot lines and character relationships. Plus, I am trying to slowly induce Beth into the SPN world and trying to show the brothers through a stranger's eyes. (Someone who doesn't have the advantage of knowing how amazing and badass they are.)

Hopefully you liked it… Please follow, favorite and review so I know how it's being received. Feeling super insecure posting this so I am begging for some reviews to tell me what y'all think!

 **NEXT CHAPTER: DEAN'S POV!** Yay! The next chapter was so much fun to write, can't wait to post it.


	3. This is a chase & where ever it goes, go

Thank you to those who read and favorited and followed and extra love to those who reviewed: feriyen, thehelper900, Rin-s666, SarahCullen4, dixie326. Your support means the world and you taking one minute to write a review brings me hours of happy feels. (:

Unfortunately, I do not own anything TWD/SPN related. I am merely a fan exploring the horrific worlds created by Kirkman and Kripke.

 **/**

 **Chapter 3:** **This is a chase and where ever it goes, you go**

After several hours of skimming through the bible from the hotel's nightstand drawer, watching the brothers clean weapons, flip through an old hand written leather planner and some other books, the men finally moved to get some sleep.

She glanced at the two queen beds and jumped up suddenly from the one she had been sitting on. There was no way she was going to sleep in the same room as these guys, much less share a bed with one of them.

"I can… uh… I can keep watch," she sputtered while moving towards the window. Sam flopped down on the bed she had previously occupied but Dean just stood and stared at her.

She averted her gaze, choosing to look out at the motel parking lot instead of meeting Dean's glare. She was afraid he would be able to read her whole plan on her face if she looked at him.

"Guess you're going to want your weapons back if you're going to keep watch."

"Can't exactly fight off the walkers with my mind," she quipped. Beth was trying to act sassy to cover how nervous she felt.

Her plan wouldn't work without weapons.

And there was no way she would be able to steal them back from these two men who both had at least 100 pounds on her.

"Uh huh," Dean muttered skeptically, with one eyebrow raised. He had an expressive face, but she still didn't have any clue what he was really thinking.

Luckily, before she could start sweating under his scrutiny, he smiled a little and turned to the duffle bag he had shoved most of the weapons in. Dean pulled out her two knives and held them in his left hand while he continued digging in the bag with his other hand. She tried not to look giddy as her plan started to unfold.

Beth turned her eyes to where Sam was sprawled out on the bed face down, fully clothed. He was so tall that his feet, still laced into his boots, were hanging off the edge of the bed. He was already snoring and she felt a jittery giggle rise up in her throat.

"Sammy's never had a problem falling asleep, no matter what else is going on," he smiled fondly at the sight of his gigantic brother taking over the entire queen size bed.

She realized that they never told her which one of the bothers was older but in that moment, she could read it on Dean's face. He was definitely the older brother. The protectiveness and concern she saw in his eyes was a reflection of the expressions she had seen on Maggie and Shawn's faces for years.

"Here," he pressed the knives into her hand and waited while she put one back in her boot and attached the other to her belt.

Dean held out her gun, grip towards her. She reached for it but he pulled it back and grabbed her wrist. He yanked her close to his body, up on her tiptoes and from her angle he seemed as tall as Sam. Beth stared up at the fire raging in his eyes. Her heart sped up and she was suddenly afraid he had realized her plan and would hit her.

"Don't make me regret giving this back to you," his voice was gravel and he was close enough that she could feel his breath when he spoke. "I can see that you don't trust us and I get that. It's smart. I don't trust anyone or anything either. But I am stronger than you, faster than you and I've been doing this a lot longer than you."

She glanced over at Sam where he was sleeping. Beth thought Sam was much more welcoming and found safety in his smile. She wished—stupidly—that Sam would wake up and save her from his own brother.

He chuckled darkly as if he could read her foolish thoughts and her blue eyes darted back to his face, "Sam and I are brothers, blondie. That means that he won't betray me and that I would do absolutely anything it takes to keep him safe."

Dean loosened his grip on her and she tried to step away from him. Before she could pull her wrist out of his hand though, she saw his eyes flick down to her wrist. His fingers slowly opened and he saw the huge, jagged scar that she had cut across her own wrist. Beth yanked her hand away before he could say something about it and turned to the window again.

His hand, holding the barrel of the gun, appeared over her shoulder. Beth took it and shrugged, "Thanks. Not that it'll do me any good, ran out of bullets weeks ago."

"Yeah, I fixed that for you too," he said with a small smirk.

She released the magazine and saw that it was full of bullets. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a handful of rounds and gave them to her.

"Thank you," Beth said astonished, separating the rounds into her jean's pockets since there were too many to fit in one of the tiny pockets alone.

"Don't do anything stupid," Dean said seriously, still staring at her. "And don't say I never gave you anything," he laughed at his own joke as he lay down on the other bed.

She turned back to the window and tried to ignore the feeling of guilt ripping into her stomach.

 _This doesn't change the plan_ , Beth thought to herself.

Just because they stitched her up and gave her weapons back, did not mean they could be trusted and didn't change the fact that they had been talking about torturing people.

 _Only a few more hours_ , she thought as she waited for Dean's breaths to even out.

/

A small draft woke him up with a start and his hand instantly grabbed the gun under his pillow.

He sat straight up and his eyes didn't need to adjust to the darkness before he realized there was no threat. Dean could hear Sam's quiet snoring on the next bed and knew he was still safely asleep. Sam never woke up at strange noises, probably because he had always had Dean there to watch his back. But the room was otherwise empty and for just a moment, he couldn't figure out what was wrong with this picture. It was always just Dean and Sam, alone in motel rooms.

But then his waking thoughts caught up with his sleepy brain and he realized that the blonde girl was missing.

When he'd fallen asleep, she had been standing by the window. She wanted to take guard and Dean didn't care. Sam and him never kept someone on guard. These days, it was mostly just croats and people they had to worry about—and those were nothing compared to monsters he'd spent the first 30 years of his life facing.

Now the girl was gone. The door closing behind her must have been what woke him up.

He could go after her; she couldn't have been more than 50 feet outside the front door yet. But he stayed put. Dean had been the one who spotted her and stopped the car to save her but that didn't mean he wanted her around. He'd learned too many times what happened whenever anyone tried to tag along with the Winchesters. At some point, it always came down to life and death and Dean would always protect Sam over anyone else. The blonde was still a young girl and he didn't want her death on his conscious.

So he wished he could just go back to sleep and pretend he never heard her go.

 _If she wants to run away so damn bad, just let her_ , he thought to himself.

Instead of lying back down, he remained seated and strained to listen for any noises outside. There was a faint sound of glass breaking and he tried not to move—tried to not care, tried to stay sitting on the musty bedding—but he couldn't. He found his feet were running without his consent.

Dean moved silently, closing the door tightly as he scanned the parking lot under the light of the moon.

He kept his gun gripped in his hand but he didn't hear anything yet. Walking out of the hotel parking lot, he saw a flash of blonde several yards up the street. There was no immediate threat so he tucked his gun back into his waistband and just watched her for a minute. Her head kept popping up over the steering wheel of a little blue Honda.

There were little grumbles of irritation from the kid. He heard one loud, "Shit!" and almost laughed. Dean definitely did not think that this girl was the cursing type.

Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one who heard her outburst. Several croats that had been shuffling aimlessly in the diner parking lot up the street stumbled in her direction. There were only three at first, but their renewed growling attracted a few others. The girl's head was still tucked under the steering wheel, her legs dangling out of the open driver's side door. She hadn't noticed the monsters coming her way.

"Dammit," he muttered as he pulled the angel blade out of his hip sheath. He hadn't seen an angel in years and only ran into demons every once in a while, but the angel blade worked on everything, including the croats, so he always keep it around.

He plunged the blade into two skulls on his way to the car, the croats' attention was all on the blonde so they hadn't even heard him coming. There were four more but only one was close to the blonde and the car. He sprinted past three of them to get to the croat as it just reached the girl, who had heard the creature but was still bent over and didn't have a weapon in her hand to stop it. Dean stabbed it in the head but didn't bother moving it, so the corpse fell on top of her legs as she was stretching out to grab her knife off of the passenger seat.

Two more croats were right in front of him when he turned around, his back to the girl in the car. They lunged and caught him off balance, pushing him to the asphalt and knocking the wind out of him. The second one piled on top of him next. Both of them had been big, heavy men while they had been alive and now Dean had about 450 pounds of hungry, dead weight on top of him. He kept thinking that the third one would come up on the dog pile any second so he tried to hurry and finish these two off. He held the bottom one by the neck, careful to keep its teeth away from his face, and jabbed the blade up under the jaw. The one on top continued to claw at Dean for a moment, but then it suddenly went slack too. The blonde was standing over him, wiping blood from her knife onto her dirty yellow shirt.

She stood there over him, moonlight making her blonde hair shine bright white. She looked as if she was deciding something. Dean was still under the dead weight of the corpses, and was just about to make a joke about threesomes when she suddenly bent over and grabbed the feet of one of the croats and dragged it off of him.

"Thought you were gonna wait for an invitation first," he joked as he heaved the second croat off to one side. Dean stood up and brushed some dirt off his jeans but the small blonde had already moved back to the blue Honda. She kicked the twice-dead croat out of the way and leaned down on the driver's seat again.

He walked over to the car, peering in through the windshield to see what she was fiddling with.

"Are you even going to thank me for saving your ass, again?" he pressed, just to push her buttons.

"Thanks," she mumbled from beneath the steering wheel.

"Well that's three times I've saved your life from those croats now… I think that entitles me to some pie or a medal or something," Dean said not bothering to keep his voice low.

"Well that's twice I decided not to shoot you, so why don't we just call it even?" she hissed, glaring up through the windshield at him. Her eyes darted away shamefully after just a second, back on the work in the car.

He wasn't scared of this girl.

In fact, the thought of this blonde, little human girl killing him after everything he'd been through was actually comical.

"Nah, I think you'd still have to try to shoot me at least three times before we're even, Barbie," he laughed.

She ignored this comment, pulling her knife off the seat and fiddling around with it under the dash. Dean leaned on the hood, spent a few minutes enjoying the cool Tennessee air and wishing badly that the old diner was still open so he could grab a burger. He instinctively checked the hotel door where Sam was still asleep. It was still closed and the only croats in sight were now unmoving on the sidewalk.

"Shit," she cried again, quieter this time. Dean looked over to see the blonde sitting up in the car sucking on her left thumb.

"Do I have to save you from yourself and make it an even four favors you owe me?" he chuckled but pushed off the hood and came around to sit in the passenger seat.

Dean reached for the injured hand she was sucking on and she flinched away like he expected him to hit her.

That pissed him off.

This girl didn't even know him but was already terrified of him. He wanted to think that this said something about her—maybe she was just skittish—but he reluctantly admitted that it probably had more to do with him acting like a dick.

He tried to cover his reaction by pretending he had been reaching for the wires under the steering wheel that she had been messing with, "You trying to give this piece of crap a car wash?"

"I'm trying to get back to Georgia," she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

She looked around the car before sighing and ripping the bottom of her shirt, tying the strip of cloth around her cut finger and tightening it with her teeth.

"Well, if you are trying to hot wire this car, you failed miserably. That set of wires goes to the windshield wipers," he laughed again.

"Of course they do. If I had done it right you wouldn't have caught me and I wouldn't be bleeding again," she slumped back against the seat, looking exhausted. "Never done this before. So I took a shot. Guess you're going to drag me back and toss me in your trunk or something now?"

"Nah, already got a redhead stashed in the trunk. No room for you too, Goldilocks."

She stared at him, clearly terrified that he was being serious.

He was serious, of course. Abaddon's head was still locked in an iron box in his trunk.

But he rolled his eyes and laughed so he wouldn't scare her even more.

"So can you at least tell me if I am going to electrocute myself or are you going to be a real gentlemen and teach me how to do this?" the blonde asked him, looking a little more relaxed.

Dean clenched his jaw and contemplated her question. He didn't even know how old she was. Her wide, blue eyes—still full of an innocence he had never seen in his own face or Sam's—made her look like a cartoon deer. The guy she was trying to get back to, Daryl, must have been doing all the heavy lifting. Dean imagined that was probably the only way she managed to stay so unaffected. She wouldn't be able to survive on her own.

However, he wasn't going to trap this human kid against her will.

Demons, vampires, and kids like Lilith who had been possessed were all fair game. But he'd already made Sam dump some holy water and borax on her, touch her skin with silver and all the other tests while she had been passed out. And since she was human, he felt responsible for her safety. He didn't want to be responsible for this girl. He had other more important shit to do, like figure out how to permanently close the gates of hell. Plus, Dean had already failed too many people: Cas, Kevin, Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Lisa, Ben, his dad… He'd promised himself he'd only look after Sam from now on.

But saving people had always been his business.

"Why is it so damn important that you get back to this guy who is probably dead?" he knew his anger was misplaced, but he suddenly wanted to yell at this girl for running out into the road and making him feel responsible for another person after years of avoiding the living.

"He's not dead. Daryl's gonna outlive us all," she said with conviction, unruffled by his anger.

He threw his head back and laughed but stopped when he saw the look on her face. She actually believed it.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to laugh Mary Kate, but what exactly makes you think Ashley is so special?"

She narrowed her eyes in anger and he expected some bitter comment. However, she actually answered his question. "He's impulsive and frustratingly cryptic. But he's smart. He dropped out of high school and everyone called him a redneck his whole life so he doesn't believe it… but he's one of the smartest people I've ever known," she pulled her knees up to her chest and Dean was surprised to see that she fit crumpled up like that with the steering wheel in the way. "Tougher than nails too. And he's the most selfless person I've ever met." She nodded her head absently on her knees and stared out of the front windshield. "Daryl is… He is one of the good ones."

 _Shit, this kid is in love with the guy._ He wondered again how old this girl was and his blood boiled at the thought that some guy might have been using the apocalypse to take advantage of an innocent girl. Dean realized he'd been clenching his fist so hard that his short fingernails made marks in his palm.

 _It doesn't matter, she's not your damn problem._ He lied to himself.

"You're just going to keep trying to run off alone, aren't you?" he asked, although he already knew what her answer would be.

"He's family," the blonde put her legs back down on the floor of the car and turned in the seat to face him with a piercing blue glare. "I'll never give up on family. And so I'm not giving up on him."

He nodded. Dean would do anything for his family, so he knew where this girl was coming from. Family, above all else, was something Dean understood. "Now you're speaking my language Carter," he joked but felt a new found respect for Beth. "All right, so the first thing to know when hot wiring a car is this—"

 **/**

A/N:

Sorry that took so long to post, I have been driving across the country, enjoying the holidays and trying to convince my sister to watch SPN. (I already got her addicted to TWD).

 **PLEASE review/favorite/follow, it makes me happier than drunk Cas!**

 **Do you want more of Dean's POV?**

 **Do you want longer chapters?**

 **Did ANYONE understand the reference from the title?**

Let me know!

Next time: Sam and Dean disagree (ha, I know, that never ever ever ever happens in the show, right?!) and Dean drives a hybrid car (gasp! the horror).

Coming soon: TWD Family is introduced into the story—I won't tell you WHO though :P


	4. Bill Sussman and the three bears

**A/N:** Thanks for reading! As requested, I've got an extra long chapter for you today! :)

EXTRA big thank you shout out to those who reviewed: GreenHoneyTea, KoldFusion, JaliceJelsa4eva and guests. Anyone who writes knows how indescribably good it feels to get those little favorite/follow/review messages! Thank you to my Beta: thehelper900 for the suggestions and for getting back to me so quickly!

Continuity issues: I may spell something two different ways in the story: "croats" or "crotes" They are both the same slang term for walkers in the Winchester world. Online communities call them croats but the official CW paid subtitles spell it crotes, so I may accidentally switch back and forth. Sorry for any confusion!

Unfortunately, I do not own anything TWD/SPN related. I am merely a fan exploring the gruesome worlds created by Kirkman and Kripke.

 **/**

 **Chapter 4: Bill Sussman and the three bears**

They broke into three more cars on the street that night and Dean called her 'grasshopper' at least four times. She never got one started but he said that she had the hang of it and would get it eventually.

When the sun started to rise and the sky went from black to peach, they headed back to the motel.

Beth wasn't sure what had changed between them while they broke into cars all night, but she guessed she must have done something right. When she popped open a car door on the first try, using the coat hanger they stole from the motel closet, a genuine smile lit up his face instead of the fake, forced ones from yesterday.

He held a finger to his lips before slowly opening the motel door. Sam had flipped onto back while he slept through the night and his snoring was even louder than before. The older brother leaned over really close to Sam's head, and then shouted "Wake up Sam, you're gonna be late for school!" Sam startled awake, saw it was Dean and then hit his brother with a pillow hard enough that Dean was almost knocked off balance.

She stood awkwardly in the doorway, watching the parking lot for walkers, not wanting to intrude on the brotherly moment. A knife twisted in her gut. She missed Maggie and Shawn desperately.

The two men gathered what little things they had and talked in whispers. She could only hear snippets of their conversation and their voices were too similar for her to tell apart when they were whispered but she heard them mention someone named Kevin, they talked about the mysterious bunker again, and she could've sworn she heard them discussing ghosts.

When they walked out of the room, she noticed that Sam had changed out of his ripped and bloodied shirt he'd worn yesterday.

Sam handed her something as he walked by and without looking down at where she was leaning against the wall, he said "Sorry, you'll be swimming in it, but hopefully it's better than that dirty rag you've been stuck in."

She looked down and beamed when she saw he had handed her one of his bright blue t-shirts.

"Already trying to get the new girl out of her clothes, Romeo?" Dean said when he followed Sam out of the door.

"It's called being polite, you jerk," he quipped back as he shoved his duffle bag into the backseat of the car.

"Call it whatever you want, Bitch. You're still trying to get jailbait outta her clothes," Dean tossed his own bag at his brother before turning back around to Beth. "Go change, you smell terrible and you are definitely not getting in my baby like that."

She looked in the grimy motel bathroom mirror as she changed out of her ripped, gray sweater and bloody, yellow shirt.

They only had a few small hand mirrors at the prison, so it had probably been about a year since she'd seen her whole body in a full-length mirror. She was surprised at how skinny she was, she'd always been thin but now she could see most of her bones. It's not that there wasn't plenty of food at the prison or on the road with Daryl, but Beth always felt too guilty to eat full portions. There had been so many mouths to feed and she didn't do any of the hard manual labor, like fighting walkers, digging trenches, or going on runs. She'd been careful to serve herself last, always giving bigger portions to the kids and people who had been working hard all day, and even giving her food to Judith if she was still hungry. Looking at herself now, all bones, she realized she should have eaten more while the food was available because without Daryl she didn't know if she would be able to feed herself. She was hungry now though, not having eaten since running out of the funeral home more than 24 hours ago.

Ignoring the protruding bones, she focused on the new, lean muscles she saw. Her quads were solid and defined, and her arms were bulging. She knew those particular muscles were from carrying Judith everywhere. Beth suddenly wanted to cry when she thought of Lil' Asskicker. She missed that little girl more than anything and hoped that Rick was keeping her safe. Judith must be with Rick, that man would do anything for his kids.

To keep from crying she pulled on Sam's shirt over her disgustingly dirty bra. She was happy it was a black bra because she knew if it has been white to begin with, it would be black from dirt and walker guts by now anyway. She looked at herself in Sam's shirt and the urge to cry disappeared. She really was swimming in it. It was a short sleeve shirt but it came down to her elbows and it hung passed her butt. She wanted to laugh.

At least it covered up her bony ribcage.

She quickly tucked the shirt into her pants so she had access to her gun and knife, and hurried out to the car.

/

"I think we should split up," Dean said as soon Beth disappeared behind the closed motel room door.

"You're breaking up with me, after all these years?" Sam responded with a fake cry and a fluttering hand on his chest.

"Yeah, I'm trimming the fat around here and you're the first to go," he laughed from the driver's seat. "I'm serious Sam. We're going to find you a car so you can head back to the bunker."

"I thought we were all going to the bunker?" Sam asked.

Dean swiped his hand over his face, "I'm gonna take her back to Georgia. See if we can't find this dude she's looking for."

"And that's something you have to do without me?"

"The girl is just going to keep running off until we find her family. It's less hassle this way, just drop off Barbie back into Ken's arms and we can get back to ending the damn apocalypse," he started the car and found a tape, happy that he never listened to Sam when he told Dean to replaced the dash with an iPod dock. "So you go back and do your nerdy-book-reading thing. And do it right this time, I'm friggin' sick of driving around on false leads."

"Uh huh," Sam nodded skeptically. "It's 'less hassle' to drive the pretty girl home… alone. And it has nothing to do with you skipping out on research, right?"

"I'm still the driver, which means you still have to shut your cake hole," he turned up the volume on AC/DC to make his point but he still grabbed the pair of walkie talkies off of the floor and handed one to Sam. "You know the drill though."

"Yeah, yeah," Sam tucked the radio into his jacket pocket, while Beth came bounding out of the room in Sam's huge, bright blue shirt.

He put the car in gear and pulled away with out making a joke about how he'd seen nuns showing more skin than that gigantic shirt showed on her.

"Thanks for the shirt, Sam. I'd like to say I will wash it and return it to you but these days, most of my clothes end up bloody, shredding or burnt," she said over the music and she laughed a little.

"Don't worry about it. That shirt was always a little too tight on me," he said nodding and reaching to turn down the volume.

"Hard to imagine that," she muttered with a laugh and leaned back against the seat. However, the smile had faded from her face by the time he checked her in the rearview.

Dean didn't say anything but he wondered again if he was doing the right thing bringing her back to Georgia. It felt like a waste of his time—he had better things to do—things that would actually save the whole planet in the long run. He really should just tell her to suck it up and make her help them read through all the books in the library for the fourth time. Maybe a fresh pair of eyes would actually help them. Dean was so sick of reading the same books over and over again that he had trouble paying attention while reading them.

The Impala screamed down the highway in the direction they had come from yesterday.

After only 30 minutes, during which time Sam and Beth chatted about shit that Dean didn't pay attention to, they got to the place he'd been looking for.

Dean interrupted whatever they were saying, "So we're dropping Sam here to get a car and then I'm gonna take you back to Georgia."

"Wha—you?" she sputtered with big doe eyes. Incredulously, she continued, "You're taking me back?"

"Thought you wanted to go home, Dorothy." He raised his eyebrows and looked at her in the rearview mirror.

"I do… But uh… are you sure… you want to do that? You don't have to take me. I can make it on my own if you just help me get a car…"

"Like you made it alone on the street with all those croats surrounding you?" He knew that was a low blow when he watched her flinch like she'd been slapped.

"You sure you want to separate from your brother?" glancing over at where Sam sat in the passenger seat.

"Sam—unlike you—knows how to take care of himself," Dean shrugged easily.

"So why does it have to be you who takes me?" the blonde fired back, finally taking off her nice-girl gloves.

Dean glanced over at Sam who shrugged and started to agree with the girl, "I could just—"

"No," Dean bellowed. Finally, after checking that the road was totally clear, he turned around to face her and realized that she looked slightly terrified. He worked to soften his tone but it still came out as a growl, "Sam has shit to do. Important shit. So he can't be there to hold your hand. And leaving a kid defenseless and alone is not on my resume so I'm taking you back."

"I'm not a kid. And I ain't defenseless. I've got 20 bullets and my knife," the blonde was stubborn and for a moment, it looked like she really could cut him with her glare.

Dean scoffed, rolled his eyes and faced Sam, "Sounds exactly like something you would've said when you were about ten." Then he turned to Beth again and said gruffly, "I'm taking you home. End of discussion."

She closed her mouth, crossed her arms over her chest and fell completely silent.

The oldest Winchester was being a dick and he knew it. But he rationalized by telling himself that he needed to take charge in order to get things done.

There were at least 10 car dealerships surrounding them when Dean stopped the car and got out.

"This is my kind of playground. Just imagine you're a sixteen year-old with rich parents and take your pick Sammy," Dean said spreading his arms wide at the cars as far as he could see.

The brothers, lead by Sam, walked around a Toyota dealership while Dean complained openly about how stupid and unreliable new cars were. Sam just kept spouting on about the gas mileage though, so Dean let it drop as they walked through the rows. The lot of cars was a mess; tons of smashed window, discarded hoses hanging out of gas tanks, and popped hoods with pieces missing from the engines. Dean grabbed a few spare parts as he walked around that would fit on the Impala.

There were a few croats roaming around the lot, but the brothers fell into step together and easily took them out like always.

Finally Sam found a hybrid that he wanted.

"You sure?" Dean asked, not bothering to hold back his laughter. "These things will crumple like a soda can if you hit anything."

"I'm not going to hit anything, Dean. I'm a good driver and you'd know that if you ever let anyone else drive," Sam jimmied open the door and got in the car to start hot-wiring it. "Plus, it's quiet and I bet I can get all the way back to the bunker on one tank of gas."

Dean evaluated the car, "I'll take that bet. Loser cooks dinner for a week."

The engine rolled over, Sam stuck his hand out to Dean to shake on it, "You're on."

"Wait, where did Beth go?" Sam suddenly asked sitting up in the seat. "I thought she was right behind you."

Dean had forgotten about the blonde. He was so used to it only being him and Sam that he just fell into old habits of chatting and fighting with his brother. He glanced around and didn't see the girl along the path they had walked. "Shit, I don't know where she is!"

He dropped all of the spare parts, jumped into the hybrid's passenger seat and Sam swerved back through the lot to where they had left the Impala.

The girl was leaning against the hood, knife in hand with two dead croats at her feet. This sight was impressive enough.

But then Dean saw what was sitting on the hood of the car behind her.

"What the hell?" he shouted as he flew out of the shitty hybrid car.

"What?" she asked confusedly, with wide innocent eyes. Though, it didn't escape his notice that her grip on the knife tightened ever so slightly at his approach.

"What do you think you're doing?" Dean asked, trying to keep his anger in check. "Where the hell did you get all of this?"

"Went inside and got it," she nodded her head towards the huge dealership building.

"By yourself? Are you insane?" he exclaimed.

"Dean just calm down—" Sam tried to interrupt.

"No, Sam. She's my responsibility. How am I supposed to keep someone safe if they just wander off by themselves?"

"Been with you for a day and I haven't seen y'all eat a damn thing. I figured you guys could use some food… so I went and got some," the blonde still had her knife in her hand and her blue eyes were now full of fury. Her southern accent was more pronounced now that she was angry. "I'm not a child. And I don't need you babysittin' me. Until ya drop me off with my family, I'm gonna pull my own weight around here."

Both Winchester brothers stood dumbstruck for a moment at her unexpected toughness. Dean was incredulous but Sam just shrugged.

"So if y'all are hungry, take your pick," she gestured to the pile of food sitting behind her before slipping her knife back in the leather sheath on her hip. "If you don't want any, then it's just more for me I guess. But either way, I would appreciate if you stopped yellin' at me. It's not very polite," Beth finished with a little nod.

Sam rushed for the car, stepping easily over the rotting bodies and grabbed up two granola bars.

Dean's stomach grumbled but he resisted the urge to eat her food, especially those chocolate doughnuts. Instead, he grumbled about the car parts he had dropped in his haste to find the girl and turned around to stomp back to where he'd left them. After turning his back on the two now snacking on junk food, the oldest Winchester wondered how much trouble this girl would be.

/

"I'm sorry about him. He means well, just has a funny way of showing it." Sam watched his brother's retreating form while sitting leaning against the hood of the Impala.

"That's one way of putting it," she said quietly as she reached behind her and grabbed a package of doughnuts.

"Where did you get all of this stuff anyway?" He made sure to swallow his mouthful of chips before talking.

"Vending machines and the employee lounge. Most of it is expired or stale, but it's better than nothing." Beth smiled while she chewed.

"That was smart of you," he chuckled. "Where did you learn to do that?" Sam asked as he toed one of the twice-dead croats on the pavement. Sam was actually impressed.

"Family was on the road all last winter, so I picked up a few things." She scarfed down 5 of the little chocolate doughnuts with surprising speed but she stopped and offered the last one to him. "They're good. Take it," she insisted.

"Thanks," he smiled and savored the chocolate taste. "You didn't have to get all this food for us. We usually do okay for ourselves. We got side tracked for a few days, weren't expecting to be out here for so long so I guess we're running a little low. I think I have some beef jerky in my bag, next time just ask if you're hungry."

"It's nothing. Everyone's got jobs to do and I like keepin' everyone fed," Beth replied resolutely.

He respected that attitude. John had always stressed that each family member had to work on a hunt. At first, Dean did research and cared for Sam, while John did the hunting. But once Sam got old enough, he did the research while his older brother and father went on hunts. So he understood this mentality. Since he couldn't exactly explain to this girl how he'd grown up learning to hunt monsters, he didn't really know what else to say. So he just sat quietly on the Impala and chewed.

Sam noticed that the girl kept stealing glances up at him through her messy blonde hair.

After the fifth time of her looking up at him and then turning away as soon as he met her gaze, Sam finally asked her, "What is it? Do I have something on my face?"

Her milky pale skin blushed crimson, but she turned and met his eyes. "No, I'm sorry, there is nothing wrong with your… uh face. Sorry." She blushed even deeper but continued. "I was just hoping I could ask you something…"

He couldn't even guess what she would want ask him that would make her so nervous so he shrugged and said, "Sure."

"Why… why can't you be the one to take me?" her voice was a musical whisper.

She looked scared with pale skin and wide blue eyes.

"He wasn't lying, I _do_ have stuff that I need to get done," Sam said.

"Stuff to get done… during the apocalypse? Got a dentist appointment to keep?" she kept her head down and she hadn't touched anymore of the food.

He set his second bag of chips down on the hood. "You'll be fine with Dean. He acts tough but he'll take care of you. I promise, Beth."

She just nodded quietly and then her head jerked up. Dean had his arms full of car parts and was walking up the road.

Sam quickly found himself begging that this girl would survive, "But Beth, you need to listen to him. Whatever he says, no matter how strange it might seem to you, just do it. Please."

Even though it was the end of the old world, the Winchesters still didn't generally tell people about all the evil things that they hunt. Most people had a hard enough time dealing with the croats, so he didn't like to add to their burden. But he remembered all the people he had lost because they didn't listen to them—people who stepped out of the salt circle or went into a house the Winchesters had already told them to stay away from. The croats were killing enough people already, and Sam wanted there to be some people left on the planet whenever they finally found a way to save it.

The blonde stared at him from where she was leaning against the car, looking utterly confused.

Dean was getting closer now and Sam urgently felt like he needed to make her understand.

"Please, just trust him. He'll call you mean nicknames and yell at you sometimes, but no matter what… you have to trust him. You have to listen to him," he grabbed her arm to try to convey how serious he was.

Confused blue eyes stared up into his green ones. But he let out a sigh of relief as she nodded up at him.

Dean passed them saying, "Better not be any dents in my hood from your butt, Sasquatch."

"Shut up, Jerk."

His older brother tossed the spare parts in the trunk, pulled out Sam's duffle bag and a plethora of different weapons. Dean tossed this stuff in the passenger seat of the Toyota, before coming back to the hood of the car. The man grabbed a handful of the snacks and tossed them Sam's new car too, before tearing into a packaged bear claw himself.

"All set?" he asked expectantly facing the pair on the car.

"Yeah. Beth, just promise me you'll remember what I said," Sam said as he slid off of the Impala's hood.

The blonde, standing about a foot shorter than him, nodded. "I promise I'll… I'll try… You be safe out there, Sam." She surprised him by pulling him into a small, half-hug with her head not even reaching his shoulder.

Dean stared at Sam with raised eyebrows. Without turning to face Beth he told her, "Go wait in the car, I need to talk to my brother."

The brothers waited until she shut the Impala's heavy door behind her before Dean hissed, "What the hell was that about?"

"Nothing man, just try not to be a complete dick to her," Sam shook his head.

"Whatever. I am just going to drop her off and get back as quickly as possible. You're the one who has the real work to get done. I've been thinking… if we can find Cas, he'll be able to help us find Kevin. So focus on any books that have to do with angels or purgatory."

"I know."

"And don't leave the bunker. I don't want to get back and have to go out looking for you again."

Sam snorted, "Am I grounded now?"

Dean ignored that comment, "And don't forget about the radio."

"Dean. I've got it handled."

"I know you do Sammy," he nodded and Sam knew that was his way of apologizing.

The brothers stood in the street between the two cars awkwardly. Sam knew that his older brother always hated when they had to separate. Even though Sam was 30, Dean still felt responsible for him.

Dean clapped his taller brother on the shoulder and said "See you soon."

Both the Winchesters got in their respective cars and drove off.

/

Dean expected the girl to be chatty so he turned his music up loud in hopes that she would get the hint and be quiet. Luckily, she obliged.

He spaced out as he drove, already worrying about Sam but trying to put it out of his mind. The food Beth had found was sitting on the bench seat between them and Dean continued to tear into it. He hadn't realized how hungry he was. He could have eaten everything in the pile but he stopped himself when he realized that she hadn't eaten anything yet.

"So are the potato chips too cold for you, Goldilocks?" he asked as he tossed the last bag towards her.

She was curled in a ball, feet on the seat, leaning against the door. Basically as far from him as she could get while still being in the car.

"Yeah. You can finish them Mama Bear," she tossed them back at him and they landed in his lap.

He laughed, "Mama Bear?"

"What you're the only one allowed to give out nicknames?" she asked with her head still resting against the window.

"No. But Mama Bear? Really?"

"You chose Goldilocks. And Sam is taller so that makes him Papa Bear," she shrugged but her face warmed up with a satisfied smile.

"What happened to Baby Bear?" Dean asked. He didn't like that nickname any better but he had missed joking around like this. Him and Sam hadn't had many fun occasions to laugh recently.

"You can't choose your own nickname. Besides, I get the feeling that you were never really a baby," her keen, blue eyes evaluated him like she was waiting for an answer. But he ignored this.

She was right of course—he'd basically become a parent the day his mom died and he started taking care of Sam.

Hunters never got to be kids.

"Fine, call me whatever you want. I've been called worse than Mama Bear. But you really should eat something."

Even through Sam's t-shirt, he could see how bony her shoulders were and how thin her legs were. He wondered if the guy he was taking her to had been starving her. She looked like she might refuse the food, but then stretched out and took the bag of chips from his lap and started eating them.

Satisfied that she at least was eating something, he handed her his water bottle and focused on the road again.

/

It was almost dark when they finally stopped.

"Another motel?" Beth asked when Dean pulled into the lot.

"Yeah," he said. "What's wrong with that?" he went around to the trunk to grab his bag. He made sure to slam it closed before the girl could come around the back and see all the weapons and crap stashed inside.

"There's just nothing to scavenge from a motel," her voice was casual but Dean noted with some satisfaction that her knife was in her hand and her eyes flicked around, checking her surroundings for danger.

"Not true. There's plenty of stuff to take… toilet paper, tiny shampoos, bibles, sheets covered in strangers' urine… all the essentials."

She laughed and it echoed like music off of the concrete motel walls.

"But really, if there's nothin' here why do you always stop in motels?" she asked as they walked towards the room that Dean chose to clear.

"Just habit I guess," he didn't say that staying in motels meant less of a chance of running into humans, ghosts and other creatures. He picked the lock easily and the room was empty except for a layer of dust. "It doesn't matter, just get inside so we can get going again at first light. Tomorrow we'll be back at the place we picked you up, find your boyfriend as fast as possible and get this over with."

Beth walked inside after him, checking under the beds and in the closet for anything lurking there, while Dean tossed his bag on the floor, pulled his gun out of his waistband and flopped down on the bed closest to the door.

When he didn't hear the neighboring bed creak, he lifted his head from the pillow and looked around. Beth didn't lie on the other bed but instead she perched on one of the uncomfortable wooden chairs at the table. In the quickly fading light coming from the window, he saw the dark bags under her eyes. She had been up all day and the entire night before. He suddenly realized she hadn't slept since she'd been passed out two days ago.

He flipped over and shifted upwards, his back against the headboard. "You look like death."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," she scoffed keeping her eyes on the fading light outside the window.

"You need to sleep," he grumbled.

"Can't sleep in here," Beth's voice was almost a whisper.

"I'm sure the sheets don't have that much pee on them," Dean laughed a little.

"It's not the sheets. Believe me, I've slept on worse," her blue eyes nervously flicked over his body ever so briefly.

And Dean understood. It was him. The princess couldn't sleep in the same room as him. He knew it but he wanted to hear her say it so he demanded, "Then what is it?"

"I… still don't…. I don't trust you," she at least had the guts to look him in the eye while she said it. "It's nothing personal."

"Yeah… it is," Dean swiped his hand over his face and got up.

He pulled open the door and bent over to pick the lock of the room next door. Beth's frame blocked the light from outside while he finished checking under the beds for her.

"It's clear in here. Lock the deadbolt and the chain, I can get into the deadbolt but you'd hear me if I took the hacksaw to the chain," she flinched out of his way when he approached her in the doorway. "I'm not going to hurt you, Beth. If you want to run, fine. I'm not going to hunt you down," he thought of all the things he normally hunted and how vastly different this girl was. "But whatever you do, do not touch my car."

They squeezed past each other in the doorway.

She looked relieved as she looked around the empty room and smiled, "Thanks."

"See you in the morning… or not." Dean had to resist the urge to slam his own door.

What the hell had he done to make this girl so scared of him? He couldn't think of anything. And again he wondered if what terrified this girl was something that happened before. Maybe bad people on the road in the last two years or maybe she'd been abused as a kid. Dean had always been shocked by the shit that humans were capable of and people had gotten even worse since the Croatoan virus took over. There wasn't anything he could do about that now though. He would just have to see how this guy was when he dropped Beth off. If she was still here when he woke up.

For now, while he tried to fall asleep, he thought about his brother, Cas, Kevin, Garth, Bobby, Charlie, Lisa, Ben, Benny and all the other people he couldn't find anymore. Sam should be safe back at the bunker if he hauled ass on the drive today. The others were all but lost to him… still… after two years.

He got comfortable and hoped he wouldn't dream of one of them getting ripped apart.

/

/

/

A/N: Thanks for reading! **Please follow, favorite and review so I know how it's being received. Reviews make me happier than Sam would be if he ever found his lost shoe.**

I got requests for a longer chapter, but was this chapter too long?

What questions do you have so far?

Anyone know what the Bill Sussman reference is?

 **NEXT chapter: Beth discovers the supernatural things that go bump in the night! How will she react?**


	5. Cujo comes home

**A/N: Sorry this update took sooooo long! I just started a new job working nights so my schedule is TOTALLY off and I just got engaged this month so wedding planning has taken over my spare time! Enjoy the chapter, I hope to update again next week so make sure to follow the story!**

 **Thank you for the reviews** **Blue-10-Spades** **GreenHoneyTea** **and** **KoldFusion** **It's so incredible to hear from all of you and know that people are reading my story!**

 **/**

 **Chapter 5: Cujo comes home**

She woke up to a soft knock on the door.

Momentarily, she was disoriented and couldn't remember where she was or why she was in a hotel. Light was trickling in through a gap in the curtains and Beth could see the mundane paintings of flowers on the walls and the empty dresser drawers standing open.

There was another small knock and Beth jumped up, knife in hand and ducked under the peephole.

It was Dean.

Even at first glance he looked miserably unrested, his hair rumpled and shirt wrinkled. She seized the opportunity to really look at Dean for the first time. His hair was somewhere between blonde and brown. Beth tried to guess how old he was but she couldn't—when he smiled he seemed so young but there were permanent worry lines in his forehead and he had the same look in his eyes as Daryl. The look that said he had seen the darkest parts of this world.

"I know you're there. I can see the shadow of your feet under the door," he looked directly into the peephole and she stared into his eyes for one whole second.

She kept her knife out as she undid the chain. She looked back in the motel room before remembering that she didn't have anything except the clothes on her back, and even the shirt she had on wasn't really hers.

"I just have to use the bathroom, I'll be right out," she squinted at him in the light.

"I'll be in the car," he nodded and swung his duffle over his shoulder.

The toilet obviously didn't flush but she peed in it anyway, loving that she at least wasn't squatting behind a tree for the first time in weeks.

It felt great to have gotten a full night of sleep last night. She hadn't even thought about running away. When Dean had gotten her a room of her own last night, she realized that he really was trying to be a good person and make her comfortable. So she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt for now.

When she came back outside, she shielded her eyes in the sun. By the looks of it, the sun had risen at least an hour ago. There were no walkers in sight so she sheathed her knife and hopped into the car.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to sleep in. You should have woken me up earlier," she said as Dean pulled the Impala out of the parking lot.

"Tried knocking. Saw you were still sleeping and I figured you could use the extra hour," he shrugged and dug under the bench seat for a new cassette tape.

"I guess I did," Beth laughed when she saw herself in the side mirror with tangled, frizzy hair and pillow marks on the side of her face. She felt well rested this morning and no longer had a headache. "Thanks."

"Glad you made the best of your alone time," he muttered bitterly in his gravely voice.

"I… I'm sorry about that. I know there are still good people out there… but I can't trust blindly anymore. It gets people killed," she curled back into a ball on the seat. She thought of her father, who's dying breath had been an attempt to build a trusting relationship with a psychopath who assaulted Maggie and Glenn. She thought of Daryl, who just started to believe in good people and then got ambushed by a dog.

Dean's only response was to turn up the volume on the Led Zeppelin album.

/

Hours later, they pulled up to the funeral home. She saw the black leather bag that had been full of money and jewelry still lying on the ground nearby. She grabbed the bag but left everything else on the pavement. The herd of walkers had moved on by then, leaving the graveyard and surrounding forest eerily silent.

Beth moved her gun to the front of her jeans and pulled her knife out. Dean was on her left with a sawed off shotgun held loosely by his side.

There was evidence of Daryl throughout the house: dead walkers. She could hear movement downstairs and started to head down but Dean grabbed her arm and tugged her behind him. He assumed she couldn't take care of whatever was down there by herself. Beth was used to this assumption so she didn't protest but just fell in line behind him. When the hunter yanked the basement door open, she quickly counted that there were 10 walkers trapped in the basement room where the corpses were prepared. Dean pulled out a knife and killed six of them while blocking the door so Beth could not get inside. Finally she pushed her way passed him and killed three of them. After the last one was silenced she began turning the bodies over, looking at their faces and checking to make sure that none of them were Daryl.

"He's not here. That means he got out," she said with a certain told-you-so tone.

She raced back upstairs to the kitchen. There was still plenty of food left in the cupboard and she filled her backpack until it wouldn't even close.

Dean found old grocery bags under the sink and finished taking all the food. Beth stopped him.

"Leave a bag. In case someone else needs shelter," she set a bag of pork rinds, a jar of jelly, a can of peas and a bottle of soda in the cabinet again.

Dean narrowed his eyes at her, "What if it's one of the bad people you're so afraid of?"

"What if it's not?" she shrugged.

"So you're scared of me but you leave food for strangers?" Dean said gruffly. He didn't waste time waiting for a response but shook his head as he walked back out of the front door.

She followed after him a few minutes later, staring at the ground as she walked. Beth tried to remember everything Daryl had taught her about tracking and footprints. Staring at the patterns in the dirt, she could see a ton of walker prints scrambling around. The majority of them seemed to point in one direction and she assumed that they had probably been following Daryl. There were several dead walkers that she passed with skulls bashed in and she knew that this would have been Daryl's doing.

When she saw one of his bolts, with green fletching trapping a walker's head to a tree, her legs almost gave out.

Beth pulled the bolt out of the tree and held it as gently as she would have held Judith. She kept going but the trail stopped at the road, about 40 yards from where Dean had parked the car. He was leaning against the passenger side door with his arms crossed. Staring at her.

She willed herself not to cry, wishing she were brave like her sister. But she sat on the road and felt hot tears fall down her cheeks.

There would be no way to track Daryl from the road. If he walked along the pavement there would be no trail. And who knows how long he stayed on it. The archer could have veered off anywhere.

After a few minutes of wallowing, she came up with a new plan.

Maybe she couldn't track Daryl… but she might have an idea of where he would go.

Beth got back up and ran into the house. Leaving an obvious trail that Daryl would be able to follow if he came back. He had to know that she would come back here for him and surely he would circle back eventually too.

Inside she tore apart the drawers until she found a thick, black marker.

' _Daryl- I am safe. Will keep looking for you and the others as long as I can. Going to check home first. –Beth'_

As she looked down at her neat scrawl on the pristine countertop, she was pleased with her message. No one but her family would know that 'home' actually meant the prison.

When she turned to go, she noticed something off about the kitchen.

The hair on the back of her neck stood up.

Beth couldn't figure out what was wrong but she could feel that something was missing.

Eyes searching the kitchen, it was clean. The tabletop was clean. Or at least, it had been clean before she had ripped the drawers off the hinges.

When she left the funeral home three nights ago in a rush, she and Daryl had been eating at the table. So their food should have been scattered around the room. She distinctly remembered knocking over a jelly jar when she ran. But there was nothing spilt on the floor.

Someone had cleaned up the glass and the jelly.

 _Why would someone do that but leave all the food?_ she wondered.

Maybe it was Daryl. She tried to convince herself of this option. But she hadn't seen any boot prints headed back towards the house. And if Daryl had come back, would he have really bothered to clean up? She doubted that. Plus, the bolt she still held in her hand told her that he left in a rush. If Daryl had come back through this area, and had enough time to clean up spilt jelly, he definitely would have made sure to grab all of his bolts.

She left the message on the counter but ran out of the house quickly while her arms were still covered in goose bumps. Beth was in such shock that she forgot to take out her knife.

Racing towards the road, still limping slightly from the speed on her stitched up leg, she told herself not to panic and scream.

Dean looked up, seeing a wild, terrified look in her eyes, and immediately straightened up on alert.

"What's wrong?" he asked as he pushed off the car to go and meet her.

"Someone has been here. Someone cleaned up the kitchen."

"I take it your boyfriend wouldn't have come home and done the chores?" Dean was calmer than he had been a second ago and his voice dripped with sarcasm.

She felt like there were eyes on her and felt a scream building in her throat.

When the one eyed dog trotted out of the trees towards her, she visibly sagged with relief as she knelt down to pet the mutt.

"Don't!" Dean shouted. He lunged forward, grabbing her arm and positioning himself in front of her.

"It's just a dog," she said trying to get around him again.

"Maybe…" he replied absently. He was staring at the dog suspiciously.

"What do you mean, 'maybe it's a dog'?" Beth could only see the side of his face but she could practically see his brain working. "Of course it's a dog, just look at it. It probably just wants some food."

His green eyes flicked over towards her even though his body remained rigid and prepared for an attack. Dean muttered his response, "Might just be the thing that cleaned up your kitchen. Now get in the car and stay there."

"Dean… what the—" she protested.

"Just get in the damn car Beth!" he growled and backed up into her. Forcing her to stumble with him towards the passenger door.

She remembered what Sam had said. Sam had made her promise that she would listen to Dean, no matter what he ordered her to do. So she opened the door and got inside.

Once the door was closed, Dean immediately crept towards the dog. Who was still standing it's ground. The scruffy mutt started growling but didn't run away like she would have expected.

Then the dog transformed before her eyes.

One second it was a white dog and the next, it was a naked man standing right in front of Dean.

Beth blinked rapidly and pinched her arm. Thinking it was a trick or maybe that she was in some sort of concussion dream.

"You're standing between me and my mate," the stranger said to Dean.

"Your mate? Seriously. You're like 50 and you think you're gonna mate with her?" Dean scoffed.

"Been waiting for a pretty girl like her to fall into my trap for a while now. Once I turn her, she'll be happy to mate with me," the strange man was older, with white, dirty hair. His right eye, just like the dog, was missing.

"Well as lovely as that honeymoon sounds, I'm afraid I'm here to burst that bubble," Dean was slowly moving towards the stranger with his knife in hand.

"She was supposed to get comfortable, let me inside, let me snuggle in bed with her and then I would bite her. She clearly has no problem letting men into her bed—you're the second one she's been with already. I led the Croatians here to chase off her first man, I'll do it again," the stranger shrugged and then suddenly he shrank down, becoming the dog again.

Dean lunged in the middle of the dog's transition. The dog turned to run but Dean was faster. He was on top of the dog in two long strides. One hand pushed its snout into the dirt and the other stabbed it in the chest with his knife. The creature seemed to flash like a blinking light bulb before her eyes.

The dog went limp and she heard a small whine. But then, the man was there again. Lying dead and naked in the dirt.

Dean got up and brushed himself off. His eyes searched the forest and then, knife still in hand, he turned to face her in the car.

/

 **A/N: I know it is a short chapter but I wanted to get something out to you since you waited for so damn long! Planning to update again next week so please review and follow!**


	6. Fish in the Jailhouse

Hey lovers!

Sorry it has been so freaking long! I have moved across the country, gotten married, and started school again butttttt this story still is jangling around in my head. Hope it doesn't disappoint. Let me know what you think!

 **/**

 **Chapter 6: Fish in the Jailhouse**

"Beth, are you okay?" he asked as he approached the car slowly.

"Wha… what was that—" her voice cracked. "Did you just kill that man?"

"It wasn't a man. You saw it shift right?" he was still walking towards the car with his knife held in the air.

"No… I mean… yeah, I saw it," her eyes were plastered on the naked, still form of the creature behind him. "But… but that's not possible."

"Let me explain it," Dean instructed as he reached down to the car door handle.

She moved faster than he thought possible and locked the door from the inside.

"You did not just lock me out of my own car," he said incredulously.

"You—you killed him," her eyes were huge with disbelief and fear. He realized he was still holding the bloody knife and quickly sheathed it.

"I did. But you heard his plan for you, he was trying to trap you and turn you, I couldn't let him live."

"Walkers… and werewolves…? How is that possible," she shook her head as if to shake the information out of her head. "Are all the horror movies true?"

"I've never been a big fan of the horror genre, so I don't know for sure. But they're definitely not all wrong," he tried to keep his voice light with a chuckle. "But that wasn't a werewolf. Werewolves are a lot uglier than that old sack of wrinkles. That was a skinwalker."

"A… a skinwalker?" she repeated, blue eyes glazing over the bloodied man in the dirt. The girl looked as if she might faint.

"Look, if you want a full history lesson I can give you the Reader's Digest version in the car. Unlock the door Beth," Dean walked around the car to the driver's door and pulled on the handle even though he knew it wouldn't work.

"How do I know that you're not a werewolf too… or a skinwalker… or whatever?" she sputtered.

He rolled his eyes. He hated doing this but he pulled out his knife anyway. "Alright. Fine. This is the knife I just killed him with, right?" He waited while she nodded. "It's made of pure silver, the only thing that can hurt a skinwalker or a werewolf." He pulled up his sleeve and ran the blade across his forearm. Small drips of blood ran out of the cut but nothing else happened and Beth seemed mollified.

After one more glance over her shoulder at the dead body, she slowly reached over to unlock his door.

"Thank you," he put his knife away and grabbed a towel out of the backseat to hold pressure on his arm.

Beth sat with her head between her knees for long enough to his blood to clot.

"How do you know all of this?" Her voice was mumbled from being tucked in her own legs but it sounded stronger than before.

Dean sighed audibly; it had been a long time since he had to explain this all to a new person—almost 2 full years since the croats started walking around and people stopped caring enough to want explanations. This girl had managed to stay innocent and polite through the apocalypse and Dean really didn't want to be the one to ruin that by telling her that all the things of her childhood nightmares were true. So he decided to make it as simple as possible.

"Hunting things like that, it's what I do," he grumbled simply.

"That's what Sam left to do, isn't it?" Beth lifted her head but still had the far away look of someone whose mind was just blown.

"He's working on a related case," Dean nodded and tossed the bloody towel on the floor of the car. The keys were already in the ignition and the engine roared to life. "And I need to get back to helping him as soon as possible. So why don't you tell me where to go next so I can get back to it?"

The girl took five shaky breaths and then her demeanor changed. She looked determined and strong and sat up straight in the seat. "Head over to highway 85, I can direct you from there."

/

"A prison?"

Dean had stopped the Impala as soon as the prison came into view from the clearing.

He took in the ruined gates, the burnt cars, the rotting bodies across the entire field and could imagine the chaos that must have caused this much destruction.

His blonde companion got out of the car without responding. He followed, weapon in hand. There were a few croats wandering around inside gates near the building but none were close by.

When he came around the car to ask Beth what the hell they were doing here, he stopped short. The girl was staring at the ground with the same concentration as someone searching for a lost wedding ring.

"What are you looking for Velma?" he joked.

She glared up at him with a frantic look in her eyes.

"I am looking for any fresh footprints," she responded as she went back to scouring the entire ground.

He was vaguely impressed that she knew how to track but left her to it and walked up the dirt path towards the prison walls. Dean passed the remains of a garden that had been trampled but judging on the size of the plants, they had been growing for a while. He mindlessly killed some croats that surged towards him but stopped when he finally got to the tank.

Beth stomped up the road through the gates and towards the gate under a giant spray-painted "C". She looked defeated but still held her knife with white knuckles as she pulled open the large steel door.

Dean ran in after her.

The place had a dozen croats roaming around, most of which Dean took out with ease.

But there were more of them streaming into the room from a back gate.

"Gotta close that gate!" Beth had noticed it too.

"I got it. You stay back," Dean commanded as he sliced through the croats. He slammed the gate closed on more hungry faces.

As soon as the last croat fell, Beth ran into one of the prison cells. She ran from cell to cell, tossing things aside, clearly looking for something specific.

Dean glanced around at the prison block. It was abandoned now, but he could tell that it had been lived in for a long time. There were toys, clothes, books, and even a few weapons scattered around. One table even had dishes out with moldy food still sitting on a plate as if someone had run out in the middle of breakfast.

Clearly she had a much larger group than just the man she was looking for. Based on the toys, there were also little kids. He initially thought this man "Daryl" had kidnapped this girl or coerced her into coming with him—Dean knew that people were capable of horrible shit. But despite the prison cells, it didn't look like some creepy Stockholm Syndrome-type situation that she had been trapped in.

It looked like this had been a home.

Dean's stomach growled as he looked at the packages of food sitting around on a huge table that seemed to serve as a pantry. He opened a Family Size bag of chips and sat on top of one of the steel tables bolted to the floor.

Beth came out a few minutes later with a book under her arm and caught him eating the food with an angry look.

"What? Goldilocks getting mad because a big bad bear is eating her food for once?" he mocked with a full mouth.

She actually smiled a little bit, even though it didn't reach her eyes. "No, you are welcome to the food. It doesn't look like anyone has been back."

The girl visibly deflated as she set the book down on the table and sat on a bench far away from where he perched.

He wanted to make small talk because he was suddenly afraid she might start crying but didn't know what he could say that wouldn't make it worse. So he just listened to the sound of the croats snarling behind locked bars and the sound of his own chewing.

"It'll be dark soon. Do you want to stay here or... what?"

"Let's stay here, it will give me some more time," she stood up and began moving quickly around the room.

She had a glazed look in her eyes and was clearly just moving on autopilot. He watched as she began tossing the moldy dishes in a makeshift sink. She was puttering around, righting things that had been upturned and wiping down surfaces with a towel.

 _She's in shock._

Now he not only had a kid to care for but a kid who was an emotional landmine ready to explode.

 _Great._

He needed to get out of here. He didn't have time to waste while this girl played house in a prison. She started dragging the croats' bodies into a pile in the corner. That's when he almost lost it.

This girl was cleaning during the damn apocalypse. She had lost all her marbles.

He sauntered over and saw that the book she had been searching for in the cells was an old bible. Dean had to stop himself from rolling his eyes thinking about the Angels and prophets that wrote that crap.

Maybe he could just leave her here.

She would be safe here. The thick walls and gates would protect her better than anything else out there. By the looks of this place, her family was all dead or long gone so they had no chance of tracking them down. He thought of the deep scars he had seen on her wrists and felt a sick feeling in his stomach at the thought of leaving her alone… but she was holding him up from saving the world.

Dean needed to get back to Sam and his real job. Escorting a teenager around Georgia was not his job.

 _She's already losing it, nothing I can do for her,_ he convinced himself. _I will just go down to the car and leave. She wanted to go home and I got her here, I did my part._ He glanced at the girl who was now on her knees trying to scrub a bloodstain out of the concrete. _She's so out of it that she might not even notice._

"I'm gonna go move the car around, get it closer in case we have to run," he got up and moved towards the door with the bag of chips still in his hand.

"I'll come out there too," she went over to a supply closet and came back with two bottles of spray paint. "I want to leave a message for my family."

The pair walked back outside and the sky was already turning orange from where the sun was setting. She started dragging a picnic table over to a large wall and Dean turned to walk down to the Impala. He told himself not to look back.

He would just get in the car and not stop driving until he got to Kansas.

But then, from behind him, he heard a strangled sob.

Instinct took over. He raced back and found the blonde on her knees, crumpled into a defeated lump of bones in front of a baby's car seat.

Dean was still 40 feet away but even he couldn't miss the bloodstains.

/

Her head was on a loop.

She went from denial—telling herself that Judith was just safe inside or out in the garden with Rick—to heart wrenching pain—being unable to tear her eyes away from the undeniable evidence of blood on Judith's car seat.

Memories of Judy happily smiling in her arms collided with nightmarish images of her being torn to shreds by walker teeth.

Beth barely even registered the firm hands that gripped her shoulders, lifting her into a standing position. When her legs started to crumble again, someone picked her up. Next thing she realized, she was lying in her father's cell. His bible with the worn, leather cover was pressed into her hands and it comforted her without even opening it. She didn't know why she was in her father's bed but she was glad that she hadn't made it to her own cell. Much of Judith's stuff was still set up in there and Beth could not have handled that.

She fell into a fitful sleep. When she woke it was still dark outside.

There was a dark shape sitting on a mattress outside of her cell door.

When she saw a cup of water next to her bunk, she sat up to sip from it. Dean, who was apparently awake on the lumpy mattress, followed her movement with his eyes. He was evaluating her carefully as if waiting for her to do something insane.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, knowing that her voice would carry in the empty cellblock. "I'm sorry you keep having to save me."

"Don't worry about it. I can't even imagine…" he shook his head but didn't finish his sentence.

She realized what he meant; he probably thought the baby in the car seat was hers.

"She… she isn't…" Beth cringed as she corrected herself, "… _wasn't_ … mine." Suddenly words were tumbling out of her mouth without her control. "Judith is… was… Rick's daughter. Rick is our leader. She was born here in the prison and I helped take care of her. Sang her songs, fed her, played with her, you know? Everyone thought I was too fragile to handle with the walkers so they kept me inside with Judy all the time. I didn't mind, though. She was so sweet and happy and someone had to care for her. Everyone has a job and watching Asskicker was mine." The ghost of a smile fell from her face. "I guess I failed pretty badly though. When The Governor came, he had Michonne and my dad. I had to try to help my dad so I left Judith with the others inside. I never thought… I never thought anyone would be able to get through the gates… but then he took that sword and just kept swinging…" her voice trailed off when she thought of how many times The Governor chopped at her father's neck with the katana. "My sister Maggie told me to get on the bus but I had to go back for Judy. I couldn't find her. And then, I couldn't find anyone. They were all gone. Except for Daryl. So we just had to run. I never should have left her inside. I had one job. I was supposed to keep her safe…"

Dean sat quietly and listened to her ramble. Even in the dark, she could see that he was focused on her, carefully paying attention to her every word.

"This world is just random chaos and violence. Sometimes, no matter how hard you try or what you do, it's just unavoidable. But I am sorry, Beth," he said sincerely.

She nodded at his apology even though it wasn't his fault of course, "What am I supposed to do now?"

"You keep going. There are more monsters to fight and more people who you can care for. Keep looking for the rest of your family."

It was almost dawn now. Through the high windows the sky was going from black to gray.

"What if I never find them?" Beth tried to stay positive, but if God would take something as sweet and innocent as Judith away, was anything really safe?

"We'll find them," Dean's gravely voice sounded more confident than she felt but she didn't contradict him.

"Thank you for… uh… bringing me inside I guess."

She stood up, feeling a need for action.

 _You don't just get to lie down and cry, not anymore._ Beth told herself as she passed Dean on the mattress.

When she walked into the main cellblock, she noticed that there were no more growls coming from the locked gate. There had been walkers clamoring in the hallway yesterday. And the bodies were all pulled into one pile in the back corner. Food was sitting in two piles on one of the cafeteria tables.

She turned around and stared at the man leaning against the concrete wall.

"Did you do all of alone this last night?" Beth asked aghast.

"Couldn't sleep," he shrugged. "Didn't want to go through all of your family's things though," he nodded towards all the open cell doors. "So get what you need and let's get out of here ASAP."

/

Two hours later she was watching the prison fade into the distance in the side mirror of the Impala.

She had her own bag of clothes now to add next to Dean's in the back seat. Beth made them leave a small stash of the essentials for anyone who came back: bullets, a gun, two knives, some food, water, blankets and warm clothes. But almost everything else had been shoved into the car with them.

She had written "Daryl" and "Maggie" in huge letters with spray paint on the side of the prison. She knew those names would attract the attention of any of her family members that came back to the prison, not just the archer and her sister. Inside, there was a more detailed note painted on the wall and map about where her and Dean planned on checking next.

Beth thought she would cry again when she left the prison, but she was all out of tears.

There was no place for tears in this world anymore.

So she just leaned back against the leather and listened to Dean's rock music playing softly.

Beth thought about telling Dean to head back to her family's old farm. Thinking that maybe her sister, Daryl, or maybe even Rick, would have gone back that way to gather like they had done on the highway once before. But she knew the farm would be nothing but a pile of ashes so she didn't mention it.

They decided to drive towards Atlanta even though Beth doubted her family would have sought out such a large city.

While the trees passed outside the window in a blur, she found her mind kept fixating dangerously on poor baby Judith and the horrible way she must have died. She needed a distraction so she didn't start crying again so she asked Dean, "What other things do you hunt?"

His green eyes flicked sideways at her and she noticed his knuckles tighten on the steering wheel.

"Oh come on. I already know about walkers—"

"Croatoans. This is a virus…" he cut her off but mumbled his answer as if he didn't really want her to hear his answer.

"Okay, so I know about the croatoans, and skinwalkers, and werewolves. What else is out there?"

He shook his head no. Beth wasn't really all that curious, but Dean's evasive nature made her want in on the secret. So she kept pressing, "What about vampires? Are they really sparkly in the sun? I always thought those books seemed far fetched."

"Those books are stupid. Vampires are bloodthirsty assholes… well… most of them are anyways," Dean answered quickly.

"Do you know any good vampires?" she asked earnestly.

The man in the driver's seat sighed loudly and tore his eyes away from the road to meet her eyes. Whatever he saw in her gaze must have been good. She could see the exact moment he made a decision because his eyes hardened with determination. "I knew one or two. His name was Benny…"

Thirty minutes of driving, she still wasn't sure if Dean was lying to her. His horrifying hunter-related stories sounded like fiction. Demons? Invisible hellhounds? Ghosts? If she hadn't seen that man change into a dog with her own eyes, she wouldn't have believed a word of it.

"…pagan god that was killing people and hiding in Paris Hilton's wax figure! So I totally had to kick her ass and—"

"Stop!" she shouted, interrupting him.

He slammed on the breaks, tires leaving black marks in the road and Beth threw open the door before the car had even stopped moving completely.

"What?" Dean demanded with his hand automatically going to his gun as he searched for whatever threat she had found.

"It's… It's Maggie. She's alive," Beth felt her cheeks hurt from the huge smile that was growing on her face. "Maggie is alive! I knew it!" She broke into a little dance in the middle of the road. The side of a building had an old map taped to it but that's not what caught her attention.

Written in blood, the huge letters read: 'Glenn- Go to Terminus –Maggie'

She jumped back in the car and pointed at the map. "Follow the train tracks!"

Beth was so excited that she didn't even notice that her sister's note was not for her sister, but only for her husband.

/

Not sure when I will post again. Will probably depend on how much interest still remains in this story! Let me know what you think! :)


	7. Timesplitters

Whattttt? Another chapter so soon? I'm on fire.

Thank you so much to RHatch89, GreenHoneyTea, BooksWriteMusic, Julia, dixie326, 0nymus, Blue-10-Spades, KoldFusion for reviewing! I don't know if it was unclear but each chapter or section is in a different POV. So for any given section you will only be inside ONE person's head. Someone asked why Dean didn't notice something in the last chapter... but that was because we were in Beth's head! Hopefully that's clear. Let me know if y'all want me to actually list who's head we are in.

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Chapter 7: Timesplitters

"Son of a bitch!" Dean shouted as the door slammed shut behind him.

He was plunged into darkness but that didn't stop him from slamming his fists against the metallic door repeatedly.

When his eyes adjusted to the dim light coming through small cracks in the train car, the first thing he saw was a flash of blonde hair. Beth was on her knees already, scouring the ground for something.

Dean had been a complete idiot. He was so concerned with getting this girl back to her family that he had let his guard down. And now they were locked in a steel box. When they arrived in Terminus on foot—thankfully Dean had the forethought to park the Impala a few miles away outside an abandoned warehouse—he should have noticed something was off immediately. But it wasn't until Dean saw the meat on the grill that he became suspicious. He knew meat. He had eaten more burgers in his life than even a fairy could count. So he knew that meat sitting on the grill was not normal. Plus there was the obvious fact that there were no animals, nor any sign of animals around, despite the huge amount of fresh meat being cooked.

While he had been staring at the food, Beth had been looking at something else.

"That's Daryl's," she had said loudly pointing to a crossbow slung over a man's shoulder.

He didn't even have time to tell her to be quiet before she continued pointing out other things around them, "Michonne's sword… and Maggie's poncho…" her voice tapered off in disbelief.

Dean pulled his weapon but it was too late. There were about 30 other guns pointed back at him, including snipers on two of the roofs. He pushed Beth behind him but he knew it wouldn't do any good. They were outgunned. The guy named Gareth told them to drop their weapons and after evaluating the situation, and realized there was no way to get out of there alive, he set his Colt on the ground next to Beth's Glock and they both surrendered their knives.

"I don't like the looks of him," said an older woman with red hair and a semi-automatic pointed at his head. "Frisk him, Alex."

One of the guys with curly hair frisked him with an apologetic glint in his eye. However, the kid managed to find his other gun and two other knives he had hidden.

After that there were a handful of people who escorted the pair to a train car marked with a white letter "D." They were pushed inside with guns still trained on them as the metal door slammed shut with a clank.

Now, he saw empty packets of powdered milk and baby food scattered around the dingy wooden floor. He wondered how long they would be trapped in here. And he was slightly embarrassed to have been caught by a bunch of humans.

Cannibals by the looks of it. But still, just humans.

"I'll find a way out of this. Been trapped in places a hell of a lot worse than this," Dean tried to assure the girl. He had managed to escape purgatory; there was no way he would be killed here.

"I know we will." Even in the dark he could see her huge, toothy grin from where she was still on her knees in the corner of the train car. The smile was out of place in their current predicament.

"What are you doing over there?" he finally grumbled.

"Tryin' to pull up the nails. You gonna help or are you just gonna punch the walls like a toddler?" she whispered but then laughed as his mouth fell open in shock.

He pushed off of the wall he had been leaning against and saw something shiny catch the light in her hand.

"Is that a knife?" he asked, trying to keep his voice low in case there was someone standing guard outside their box.

"Mhmm," she affirmed.

"What? How did you get that?" Dean squatted down next to her and she placed the small silver switchblade into his palm.

"They didn't check my boot, one of the perks of lookin' like Goldilocks." Beth shrugged and smiled again. "Think we can get these nails out and pry the boards up?"

"Hell yeah!" Now Dean was smiling too.

Maybe this girl wasn't as useless as he originally thought.

They had gone back and forth on a plan—Dean wanted to make a run for the Impala, come back with more weapons and stealth.

"I'm not going to leave them. I know they're here," she insisted stubbornly when he suggested it.

"It's not an option, Beth. We are out numbered and out gunned and we're on their turf," he growled.

He didn't faze Beth; she just kept clawing at the floorboards and stated in her infuriatingly stubborn southern accent, "I ain't askin' for your permission."

Dean considered separating. Leaving her to check the other train cars while he went for weapons… but too much could happen in the time it would take him to get to the car and back. Even with all the weapons in the Impala, he would still be outgunned. The Winchesters always had more weapons to take down creatures than humans and holy water wasn't going to work on these assholes. He couldn't take the chance of someone catching her and then being prepared for his attack.

So he sighed in defeat and laid out a plan they both agreed on.

They took turns prying up rusty nails for hours. Both of their hands were covered in bloody splinters but by nightfall they had gotten five boards up. Beth would easily fit through the hole and Dean thought he could make it if he squeezed.

Neither of them slept, but Dean still waited until his watch said it was 3am. He didn't really know if his watch was accurate according to the John-Winchester-marine- standards these days but he figured it was close enough.

"Ready?" Dean asked the blonde.

"Let's do this." The smile she wore had dulled over the hours of pulling up boards and was now replaced by worry lines creasing between her eyebrows.

Dean lifted the boards up carefully. Beth moved to slip out but he grabbed her arm to stop her. Dean had the knife in hand and he shimmied out of the train car headfirst so he could see if anything was going to come at him. The hunter breathed in the fresh outside air. He was thankful that the boxcar was lifted on wheels because if their car had been flat on the ground there would have been no way to escape. He barely fit through the hole, having to maneuver one shoulder through at a time, but he shimmied over to the edge of the car and peaked out. There was a fence not far off to his right and two large brick buildings on his left. Everything was quiet and empty as far as he could see. He strained his ears but only heard the distant sound of Croats growling. Beth army crawled up next to him.

He silently pointed towards the building that was farther away from them. Assuming that they would not keep anything important in the buildings closest to the perimeter. She nodded and they both shot out at a half-run, half-tip-toe towards the building. Their heads were swiveling back and forth to check for anything moving in the night.

The outside door to the building was unlocked, which Dean took as a bad sign. But they rushed through the main hallway anyways. It looked like this used to be an office building because there were many closed doors off of the main hallway.

Dean's muscles were so tense he thought they might snap. This building probably served as bedrooms. Meaning it was probably filled with sleeping enemies right now.

They had run right into the lion's den.

He stopped, unable to decide if they should turn around to exit the way they entered or keep going.

The building was almost pitch black but his eyes were well adjusted and could tell that Beth was staring up at him, looking for answers.

Dean kept pushing forward. They needed weapons if they had any hope of finding her family and getting out of here.

The next building was more promising. There was a vast room filled with unused furniture and had a few small hallways sprouting off the main room. Dean peaked around a corner into a hallway and spotted a dark figure sitting on a metal folding chair in front of a door. A guard. _Definitely something important behind door number one_ , Dean thought. And Dean was about to give this guard something to do. He motioned for Beth to go hide under some old desks pushed into a messy clump in the corner.

Then he picked up a dusty desk organizer from one of the piles and dropped it loudly on the ground. He pressed himself as close to the wall as he could manage and waited.

When the man came around the corner, Dean grabbed him and immediately plunged the small knife into his neck.

But the man didn't drop.

 _Definitely not human,_ he thought as he took in the figure's appearance close up.

 _Wendigo_. He realized as he looked the creature's skin.

Dean took one second to appreciate the fact that at least he hadn't been trapped by regular humans.

The pair started throwing punches but Dean knew that all the punches in the world wouldn't stop the Wendigo.

"I was getting hungry. How nice of you to volunteer as my snack," the monster screeched as he punched Dean in the stomach.

He needed the colt that was sitting back in the glove box of the Impala, or the angel blade he stopped carrying around two years ago after all of the angels had vanished from earth.

Or he could burn this piece of crap, he remembered.

"You sure you're allowed to eat me?" Dean mocked. "Don't you need to ask your human owners?" Dean was backing up, no longer attacking the creature but instead focusing on moving into the open space between the piles of furniture.

"Of course I'm allowed to! We run this place! We just put the humans out front to keep up the charade, to lure more humans in," the arm covered in slimy, graying skin shot out and connected with Dean's jaw. "They'll either become one of us or become food too one day."

"You think you're in charge?" Dean laughed openly in the monster's face. "People in charge don't sit on guard duty!"

This enraged the monster and Dean let himself be thrown violently across the room into a pile of wooden benches. He used this time to reach into the small pocket inside his jacket and pulled out the lighter. When the Wendigo got close, poised to take a bite right out of Dean's shoulder, Dean flicked the lighter and touched the flame to the creature's face.

The Wendigo screamed in pain and tried to pull away but Dean kept ahold of it, pressing the lighter into its gray skin until it began bubbling from burns. He knew he would probably have burns on his own arm, but he didn't care just then. The monster lit up in flames and was dead within a minute.

The flame begun spreading to the furniture nearby but Dean didn't bother trying to put it out before turning and running back towards where Beth was hiding.

She had already crawled out from under the desk and was standing with her mouth agape, staring at the inhuman thing now turning to ash.

"Move! Others definitely heard those screams," he kept his lighter in his uninjured hand and passed the knife to Beth. Dean grabbed her arm, pulling the shocked girl behind him into the room the Wendigo had been guarding.

The tables were full. Weapons were laid out on tables across the entire right side of the room and after a cursory glance that assured him there was no one else inside the room he ran to the table and began filling his pockets with weapons. He easily recognized his own gun, which miraculously still had bullets in it, and holstered it where it belonged.

His left hand was still stinging in pain, the seared flesh on his arm smelled awful, but he knew they needed to leave.

"Beth?" he hissed. The girl was standing on the left side of the room, picking through belongings with her fingertips. "What the hell are you doing?"

Dean saw the tabletop was overflowing with teddy bears, clothing, jewelry and other similar items. Nothing useful for them right now. Which meant Dean did not have time to care about it. But the horrified expression plastered on Beth's face said she understood. "All these people…" she muttered.

"Snap out of it! We've gotta go, now!" he wanted to shake her but his words were enough.

She raced to the other table and scooped up weapons too. Dean raced towards the door in the back of the room, he could tell from the windows that it would lead outside. But his companion stopped short again.

"Dean!" her voice was an urgent whisper.

Annoyed, he prepared to toss her over his shoulder and drag her outside. But when he saw what she was pulling out from under one of the weapons table, a smile cracked across his face.

They kept their footfalls as quiet as possible as they ran outside.

There were shouts coming from the direction of the other buildings in the center of the compound.

"Check the train cars," he commanded.

She started opening the doors, whispering "Maggie?" as she flitted from one box to another. Dean stood with a gun in one hand and a lighter in his already injured one while she searched.

When he saw three figures round the corner, he could tell even from a distance by the way they moved that they were Wendigos too.

"What the hell is taking you so long?" he yelled over his shoulder at the blonde.

The first Wendigo reached him and before throwing a punch, he immediately lit its jacket on fire. The creature screamed and frantically tried to pull his arms out of the sleeves. While that one was preoccupied, he turned to face the other two that simultaneously converged on him. Dean got in a few punches but he was taking more hits than he was landing. At one point, one of them had gotten close enough to biting his neck from behind that he felt the disgusting, hot breath move his hair. Luckily that he was ready with the lighter and he tossed the lit Bic directly into the monster's open mouth. That's when he saw a Wendigo moving towards Beth. She had her back turned, using an axe to break a pad lock, so she didn't see it coming.

"Beth!" He hit the other Wendigo hard enough that the thing fell backwards onto the ground.

She was his responsibility. He had promised that he would get her back to her family, how the hell was he going to keep that promise if she got killed?

She responded to his shout by turning and swinging the axe in one fluid motion. She made contact with the Wendigo's torso on the first swing and managed to get a second hit on its head when it moved away. It would feel the hits but that wouldn't keep him off her for long.

A slimy hand clamping down on his own neck snapped him back into his own fight. He pulled the gasoline bottle he'd found in the warehouse out of his jacket and doused the creature. He ended up getting more than enough on himself in the tussle too. The Wendigo tried to run when he realized Dean had another lighter but it was too late. He tossed the Zippo and the orange flames erupted. Dean backed away quickly, not wanting the flames to catch him too.

He turned back to Beth and the piece of crap that she was still fighting. The girl looked beaten; blood sputtering out of her nose and clearly favoring her left arm. The monster was illuminated by his buddies on fire and while it was Dean easily grabbed it by the shoulders and slammed it on the ground. It's head connected with the concrete and while it was momentarily disoriented, Dean lit it on fire too.

He picked up the gasoline can, sprayed some on all of them for good measure and then grabbed Beth.

She was leaning against the side of an empty train car, breathing heavily and trying to stop the blood running out of her nose.

"Gotta keep moving. You good?" He already started dragging her along without waiting for her answer.

Unfortunately, the pair couldn't catch a break. When they came around the next corner, some of the humans they had seen when they first entered Terminus were fast approaching. Instinctively, Dean pulled the girl behind his back, shielding her as he pushed her to hide behind another train car. When the Termites fired the first shot and Dean felt it graze his left shoulder, he whipped out his own colt and begun firing.

"Climb!" He motioned to the chain link fence behind her, "I'll cover you!" She didn't move towards the fence but instead he saw her shaky arm reach for her own gun. "Dammit! Take the launcher and just go!" Dean commanded while still firing. He'd hit at least four but there were still six more he could see ducking behind walls.

She snapped into action. Beth actually followed his direction, picking up the fallen weapons and sprinting towards the fence, while Dean took out three more men who tried to shoot at the blonde.

After she was safely out of firing range in the trees outside of Terminus, Dean ducked behind the boxcar to reload. In the moment when bullets were no longer firing, he heard voices screaming for help.

The muffled sound of the voices and metallic banging, it was clear that there were people stuck inside another rail car.

Dean ran towards the sound of the voices. Luckily, the Termites that had been shooting at him did not expect to run away from the fence so when he ran out from behind his shelter, no one had a clear shot on him. He was thankful that this car didn't have a pad lock on it, so he simply lifted the handle and flung the door open.

But shots were coming towards him again.

He took shelter in the train car labeled with a large "A" that he had just opened.

"Who the hell are you?" one voice grumbled out.

Dean took only a second to glance around. There were at least 10 people inside, "I'm the guy who's breaking you out of prison. Didn't have time to make a cake." He pulled out the four knives and two fully loaded guns he'd pocketed in the warehouse and passed them to the bearded man closest to him.

"What's the plan?" A brunette woman asked.

"No plan. Just run for it." Dean didn't bother giving them any more instruction, but aimed his gun and pushed back outside.

The bearded man with the gun joined him and together they took out the three more humans who were firing at them while the others from the train car filed over the fences.

"There's still more of them. Don't know where they're hiding," Dean told the man next to him when the last cannibal in sight hit the ground.

"They're eating people. I don't know where they are but I will find 'em… and kill 'em." The bearded man had a cold, murderous look in his eyes that made Dean feel certain this man was crazy enough to run there right now alone with only a half-full magazine.

But they were interrupted by the sound of growls from behind them. The croats finally followed the sound of gunfire to the fence line. The group that had clambered over the chain link only moments ago was now fighting off the croats. They were using the knives Dean had given them along with makeshift weapons. Dean saw that one woman had grabbed a thick tree branch and an Asian man held a hefty rock that was already covered in fresh blood.

Dean and his bearded companion scaled the fence quickly, Dean still looking over his shoulder for any other Wendigos or humans coming up behind them.

The group from train car A made such quick work of the croats that by the time Dean was on the other side of the fence all the croats were dead.

"Can you find the weapons again in the dark?" A black woman with dreadlocks asked a leather-clad man with long brown hair.

The man just scoffed and took off at a trot, with the others began trailing behind him.

When Dean didn't fall in line behind them, but instead turned in the other direction, the Asian man with the rock stopped and told Dean, "You can come with us. It's safer in numbers than going out there alone."

"I'm not alone. Girl I was with got hurt, I need to go back and find Beth. We'll be all right on our own," he said already running back to where Beth had leapt over the fence earlier.

"Did you say… Beth?" He thought he heard the Asian man say behind him, but he was already running so he couldn't be sure.

When he got back to the spot where Beth and Dean had separated, he looked around but didn't find anyone.

"Dammit Blondie. I don't have time to play hide and seek!"

Dean kept walking through the trees away from Terminus. After a few minutes, he heard growls and headed straight for them.

Inside a circle of croats, he saw a flash of blonde.

He whipped out his knife and started slicing heads, careful to avoid the girl who was still stabbing croats even as she was backed up against a tree.

When all the things were lying still in the dirt, Beth sagged into the tree.

"Took you long enough. Thought you came to your senses and left me," she joked, looking up at him with an exhausted smile.

Dean couldn't believe she could smile at that moment. There were broken twigs and leaves in her hair, dried blood crusted on her upper lip, her clothes were torn and bloody, she was cradling her right arm, and even in the dark he could see bruises on her face already purpling. He could see fresh blood spreading along her jeans where Sam had stitched up her leg a few days ago.

"Told you, leaving defenseless kids alone ain't on my resume," he wiped his knife clean and moved towards her.

"I'm not defenseless," she insisted indignantly. "I killed three of them before I climbed up the tree."

"Uh huh? So how'd you end up back on the ground then if you had it so under control?"

"The branch broke."

Dean laughed, that at least explained the twigs in her hair.

"You look like shit. Let's get you back to the car and patched up," she hobbled over the dead bodies and picked up the rocket launcher she had obviously dropped in the fight.

"Wait here," he commanded as he took the weapon from her hand.

He left her with the dead bodies, trusting the rotting smell to mask her own and keep her safe for now. When he got back to the fence of Terminus, Dean aimed the rocket launcher from his shoulder. He fired deep into the middle of the compound, hoping that this would finish off the rest of the Wendigos. His ears were ringing after the explosion but he just smiled at the fire.

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I wrote this chapter a while ago and then went through again and hated it... sooooo I made a LOT of edits and I hope you liked it!

Please comment to let me know what you are thinking about the story! Have big plans in motion for the next chapter. :) Follow the story! I am hoping to get another update out in the next few days.


	8. Opfergang

Hey lovers!

Sorry this update has taken so long, I am in school so I don't have nearly as much extra time due to constant homework. :( But I am still writing and this story is still on my mind so make sure to follow the story so you will get notified whenever I do have time to update!

Really happy with how this chapter turned out, hopefully y'all feel the same way. Please review and let me know!

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 **Chapter 8: Opfergang**

Dean muffled her scream with a large palm over her mouth.

"Trying to wake the dead?" he asked.

"I think it's too late for that," she muttered after he removed his hand from her lips.

"How does it feel now?"

She sat up from the trunk of the car and rolled her right shoulder around in tentative circles. He had just popped it back into the socket, "It feels better… much better. Thank you."

"Don't play any tennis for at least a week. Doctor's orders," he joked easily as Beth slid off the car.

The sun had risen hours ago, during their long walk back to the car, so she easily found her bag of toiletries and first aid supplies that she had gotten from the prison. She laid everything out on the trunk. Beth poised her leg up on the bumper and prepared to stitch up her popped stitches but Dean interrupted her.

"Give me that," said his gruff voice.

While his rough hands stitched up her leg, he looked everywhere but at her face. Which gave her plenty of time to look at his.

His face was scruffy; a beard was already forming from stubble even though he had been clean-shaven six days ago when they met. His face was bruised and his left arm had some severe blistering from the many fires he had set that morning. Other than that, he seemed like he was almost unharmed compared to her. Up close, she saw that he had a smattering of freckles across his nose. It made her smile to see someone so impossibly tough, someone who had managed to kill three different kinds of monsters within the last few hours, had something as mundane as freckles on his face.

She barely cringed at the stitches this time, too tired and numb to feel anything. When he finished and turned around to get a clean bandage, she gasped.

"Dean! Your shoulder!"

"What?" he asked unconcerned.

"It's bleeding. Let me see it," she commanded hopping off of the car.

"It's fine," he insisted as she made to tug off his jacket.

"If I can see the blood through all these damn layers then it is not fine! Now stop being such a mule and stay still." Beth automatically went into healing mode. She recalled her dad's instructions in her mind while she tossed Dean's jacket and flannel on the car and lifted the bloody t-shirt from his body. She used the black t-shirt, to wipe the blood from his back and arm. Her fingers feathered over the exposed skin. His skin was softer than she expected but she could feel rock solid muscle beneath her hands. He stood frozen under her touch.

She cleared her throat and tried to focus on the gash, "Gonna need a couple stitches, but its just a graze." Beth cleaned the needle that Dean had just used on her leg and then passed the bottle of alcohol to him over his shoulder.

He took a swig and joked, "Whiskey… breakfast of champions."

Beth put five stitches in his bicep and he didn't even flinch, "Didn't you feel it when they shot you?"

"I was a little busy saving people from train cars and killing Wendigos," he said it simply, like someone might talk about making a pot of coffee.

She pressed the tape over the gauze on his new stitches but let her fingers linger on his skin. Beth felt slightly mesmerized by the feel of someone else's skin. She couldn't remember the last time she had real contact with another person. Her and Daryl had hugged once, but it was really like she had hugged him and gotten nothing in return. The only other skin she had touched recently had been walkers—their skin was slimy, cold and fell off their flaccid bodies. She was struck by how different Dean felt compared to all the walkers. He was hot and solid, like a warm rock she wanted to lay on after an afternoon of swimming. For a moment, she was lost in being so close to a live human.

Dean cleared his throat and she pulled her fingers away, embarrassed.

Beth sputtered, trying to remember what he had just said, "I… uh… I think it was me that saved you from that train car, actually."

Beth tossed his flannel shirt back in his direction.

"That's true. You did pretty damn good back there Goldilocks," he nodded at her genuinely thankful. Dean's green eyes got lost in hers for one moment, his fingers pausing while he did up his buttons. "But I was actually talking about the other group I pulled out of another box while you were playing lumberjack." He reached over, detangled a twig from her hair and waved it in her face.

"You found others?" She suddenly felt like jumping. "Who were they? Was Maggie there? Daryl? Where did they go?" The questions tumbled out of her mouth.

"Didn't have time for formal introductions while I was being shot at."

"Well what did they look like?" she begged.

"Bearded man, black woman with dreads, Asian kid, guy in leathers—" his brow furrowed in thought. "—bunch more I can't remember. Is that them?"

"That's them! That's Daryl and Glenn and Michonne! Maggie has got to be with them too. Did you see a brunette? Really pretty, short hair, green eyes." She was already throwing her belongings back in her bag and readying her weapons to go after them.

"Yeah. There was a woman like that."

"You found them! You really found them!" She flung her arms around his waist in a hug. All her sore muscles, dislocated shoulder and stitches were forgotten while she hugged him. "Thank you Dean! Where did they go?"

"Get in, we'll find them."

He looked momentarily torn as he got into the driver's seat.

But by the time she hopped into the passenger side, the look had vanished.

Dean drove carefully back to the road, "I don't know where they came out of the woods… Maybe they didn't even come back to the highway in this direction."

"We'll find them. They're so close!" The smile on her face was beginning to hurt her cheeks. She hadn't smiled this much in months.

He drove for almost thirty minutes and there hadn't been any sign of humans, just a lot of walkers stumbling around towards Terminus—the flames still visible in the daylight.

"Let's stop here and walk. I can try to track them," Beth said impatiently.

After an hour of trying to track footprints, she wanted to scream with frustration. It was midday now and she just wanted to see her sister again.

"Maggie!" She began shouting at the top of her lungs, "Maggie!"

"Do you have a death wish Goldilocks?" Dean hissed at her. "The damn trees are still crawling with croats."

"I'm sorry," Beth slumped against a nearby tree. "It just sucks knowing my sister is so close and I missed her." Dean just nodded solemnly and looked around at the ground. She had no idea if he knew how to track—he's never said anything so she assumed he was just grasping at straws trying to help her, just as she had been the first time Daryl taught her.

Beth got moving again, staring at the ground as she walked for any signs that people had passed through here recently. She tried to remember everything Daryl had taught her during the two months that they were together. While she searched, her mind wandered back to Dean lighting those monsters on fire in the warehouse. Beth hadn't been in any fights but she had seen her family fight many strangers on the road. Those things that had been fighting her—Wendigos—their speed, their strength… they were so far from human. Dean had known exactly what to do. They must have been something he'd come across before.

"Can I ask you something?" she whispered.

Dean was only a few steps behind her, gun poised, but suddenly he seemed nervous, "I guess."

"Do you do this kind of stuff every day?"

"Look for long lost families after being stuffed in a train car all night… Yeah, it's my Tuesday tradition," he deadpanned; looking at her like she just asked if the sky was blue.

 _Jerk_ , she silently scorned him in her head.

"I meant, saving people from monsters," Beth returned with an eye roll.

"Yeah. Been hunting things like that since I was four," he answered with pride.

"Why do you do it?" She stopped and looked up into his green eyes, trying to understand what could make someone give up their entire life to dealing with monsters. She remembered her pre-apocalypse life and wished she could go back to a life without monsters. Guessing his age, Dean had probably been dealing with this before she had even been born. He must have had better choices—school, football, girlfriends—he must have given all of that up. Why would someone make that choice?

He sighed deeply and ran his hand over his face. Dean was quiet for such a long time that she didn't think he was going to answer her. "It started as revenge. And for a while, I think I only did it because it was the only thing I knew… But I…" he looked utterly exhausted with bags weighing down his eyes. "This world is going to end bloody and I intend to go down fighting. I was never going to die in bed surrounded by flowers and my family; I know I'm going to be ripped apart by one monster or another. But I am going to save as many people as I can before that happens."

A million things passed through her head in only a second. All the memories from her past life—sitting under the Christmas tree with her family, the day her dad taught her to ride a horse, the bubble baths her mom used to draw when she was sick, summers swimming in the lake with Maggie and Shawn—and all the things she ever dreamed of for her future—cooking Thanksgiving dinners for her whole family, reading her children bedtime stories, a big wedding with everyone she loves in one place. The past and future mixed together and flashed by in a blur. But just as quickly as it came, they were all gone. Replaced only by death and walkers… and now Wendigos, shapeshifters, vampires and all the other things that had lurked in her nightmares.

Everything Beth had ever known and ever hoped for was gone.

At one point, that would have made her indescribably depressed.

But now it felt liberating. She felt strong. Dean's words struck a cord with her. Her future was muddied, but she could help make a better world for others.

She thought of her father. Beth had always imagined him passing away peacefully in his sleep, after saying tearful goodbyes to their family. Instead, his head had been chopped off by a madman. However, he'd spent his last breaths trying to make a deal to save lives.

"I don't want to go back. I want to stay with you," she declared. It's what her dad would have done and it's what she wanted to do.

Beth watched as Dean's face went from surprise to disapproval.

"No," he growled.

"I want to help. I want to do something to make this world better for everyone else," she insisted.

"You can. Go back to your family and make _their_ lives better," he started walking again, clearly an indication that he wanted the conversation to end there.

"I can't do anything there. I am nothing more than a laundry machine to them!" she trailed after him, hating that she felt like a puppy trailing after an alpha dog. "You and Sam are trying to end all of this! What is better than that?"

"You belong with your family," Dean was getting impatient now.

"You can't make me go back to them," she insisted petulantly.

"Watch me," his eyes narrowed, daring her to defy him.

Beth continued tromping through the trees after the hunter. Suddenly, she heard voices. Dean must have heard them too because he grabbed her arm and yanked her behind a large tree. She recognized the voice and peaked slowly around the trunk.

She felt tears brimming in her eyes immediately.

It was Judith. She was there, in Rick's arms and being peppered with kisses from Carl. Even from this distance, hidden behind a tree 50 yards away, Beth saw the joy and relief in everyone's faces at the sight of the little girl. Her eyes flicked over the group. Her whole family was there. Maggie had a wide grin on her face; one hand wiping a tear from her cheek and the other arm was wrapped around her husband's waist. Glenn looked so satisfied, like having Maggie in his arms was better than a ten-course meal after being starved for months. Even Daryl's face, normally an unmoving mask, had lit up at seeing Lil' Asskicker. Everyone was there, safe and happy. Beth even noticed some new faces in the group, new additions to what used to be her family. It wasn't even her family anymore. They represented a time from before and she no longer felt like she belonged with them. Her family was already changing and growing, adding new members and getting stronger.

She felt Dean's eyes scrutinizing her. He raised his eyebrows at her and then moved to leave the tree towards her family. But she stopped him.

Beth flung herself with all the strength she had left at the man and the pair toppled to the ground in a mess of limbs. Dean looked momentarily shocked to find himself underneath her. She weighed less than half of what he did and the man reached to her hips easily pushed her off. Beth struggled under him, trying to get her position of advantage back but it was completely useless.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he kept his voice low even though he easily could have shouted to attract her family. Beth suspected he just didn't want to be discovered pinning her to the ground. "That's them isn't it? That's your family that you were so determined to get back to, the one I drove through three states to drop you off with… Now you're just going to ditch them to come monster hunting?"

Small rocks were digging into her back, "I'm not ditching them Dean. I want to save them."

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. Dean's knees were pressed down on her inner thighs, keeping her from being able to use her legs to push him off. He was so close that she could smell the sweat that had built up over the last week of running and not having anywhere to shower.

"Save them? Is that what you call this?" he asked gruffly, lifting one hand from her wrist and motioning to the fact that she was now trapped. "You're too weak to save yourself… much less all of them. Go back to reading that kid bedtime stories."

"I told you I would do anything for my family. That's what I am doing." She glared blue daggers up at him and hissed venomously, "I am not weak. I know what everyone thinks; they think I am weak so they lock me up to keep me safe doing laundry and you think I am some kind of damsel that needs to be carried back home. I'm not! This is the world now and I am smart enough to adapt to it. Two weeks of training and I am already better at tracking in the forest than you are."

He was stunned into silence; clearly he hadn't been expecting her to have so much fire in her. In the back of her mind, she remembered Daryl's stunned face when she yelled at him and Merle's stunned face when she fired a warning shot over his head.

Men were always underestimating her. And she was sick of it.

"The world has always been about sacrifices, Dean. Even the old world had its fair share. These days, every moment is a risk. And the only choice we really have is what you are willing to risk your life for," Beth's voice was steady and resolved. "I am willing to risk everything to save those people, my family… I'm willin' to risk it for all good people left out there. If leaving my family behind is the sacrifice I have to make to save them… to **_really_** save them… from all of this hell on earth… I will do it."

Dean's green eyes bore down into her, examining her face with a crinkle in his brow.

"This isn't me givin' up on them. I'll never give up on them. I would do anything for them," Beth repeated. She could barely even feel the rocks beneath her anymore. All she could focus on was Dean's calculating face and the tightness of his grip holding both of her wrists in one of his hands.

"Please, I want to do something that truly matters with my life," she begged.

After several tense seconds, his grip loosened on her wrists and his weight lifted off of her body. He knelt back onto his knees.

She knew she won.

"This life… it sucks, Beth. It's miserable, lonely, and thankless. It's not a movie that wraps up clean and happy when the credits roll. Everyone dies at the end of this," he looked defeated even though he was still towering over her from where he sat between her legs in the dirt. " ** _Everyone_** ," he stressed. "Hunters die bloody and if they are lucky, they stay dead."

Her childish dreams of being Prom Queen and having a Grammy-winning album had been shattered for a long time. But when her father—the most selfless and church-going person she knew—died bloody, all hopes of ever dying peacefully in her sleep had disappeared too. However, she now saw a light again. An opportunity to fix things for everyone. The Winchester brothers had a plan, and she figured if anyone could fix things it would be these brothers who had been fighting monsters since before they could remember.

Beth nodded, " I can live with that."

Both of them smiled at her small joke.

Then Dean stood up and extended his hand to help Beth up from the ground.

/

It was already passed noon when they made it back to the car.

His blonde companion remained quiet during the entire walk back. She had defied his expectations over and over again. Dean thought she would be ecstatic to get back to her family, to return to the motherly role and to a simple life of doing laundry and reading to children. He realized now that he had prematurely judged her. She was tough as nails.

Figuratively, of course.

Physically, she was a mess. He could see her limping on her stitched up leg, saw her wince every time she moved her injured shoulder, watched as her nose became more swollen and turned purple. She had never been in a real fistfight before. This worried him. Dean had been punched at least once a week since he was nine and started going on hunts. He was immune to the pain—well, he was immune to most pain. Right now, the burns on his left hand stung horribly under the gauze.

But this girl had obviously never been hit before.

Some part of him envied that fact.

He wished he could have known a life without suffering like this girl.

Or maybe just that Sam could have had a life without suffering.

He expected her to complain about the pain but she didn't say a word. Even when Dean specifically picked up his pace, trying to provoke her, she still didn't complain. She just pushed harder to keep up with him.

When he reached the Impala, he got into the driver's seat without even thinking about it.

Beth got into the passenger seat and he watched with astonishment as a grin spread on her face.

"What are you so happy about?" he growled as the engine roared to life.

"We're gonna end the apocalypse. I can just feel it," she reached for a seatbelt automatically and frowned when she realized there were no seatbelts in the old car. "This isn't very safe you know," she chided.

"I've got bigger things to worry about than Title 49," he quipped as he sped off.

Dean noticed that, for the first time, she wasn't curled into an impossibly tight ball in the passenger seat. She looked relaxed and even was tapping her toes to Metallica coming out of the speakers.

"What the hell has got you so chipper?"

She beamed at him, "They are all safe. And together. Judy is alive and Maggie is back with her husband. Daryl is surrounded by family again. It's better than I even prayed for."

He grunted in response and was starkly reminded of the fact that this girl was still so uninformed about the supernatural. If she still prayed, that means he would need to tell her—soon—that God had been M.I.A. for millions of years and didn't give a shit about her prayers.

That was a talk for another time though.

For now, he just let her enjoy her delusions as he carefully navigated through the dirt road.

But suddenly he slammed on the breaks when a kid ran out in front of the trees. The dust settled and Dean could see a teenage boy in an oversized, brown hat. A 9mm was held limply at his side. The kid looked like he had seen a ghost. Dean followed the boy's gaze and saw his wide eyes were resting on Beth.

"Wait here," she said quietly as she opened the door.

The blonde pulled the younger boy in for a long, tight hug. The boy was almost as tall as her but it was clear that he still looked up to Beth. He gripped her hand and tried to tug her back in the direction he had come from. Dean watched as Beth's lips moved. She talked for a long time. The boy tried to interrupt several times but she scolded him, much like a mother or older sister might have. When Beth finished talking, the kid in the hat looked over at Dean and glared. Many people had tried to kill Dean in his 35 years, but this kid looked at him with such a murderous scowl that Dean actually thought he might get goose bumps. He didn't—of course—but almost.

The pair spoke for several more minutes. But finally, the boy nodded obediently. Beth smiled sadly at the boy and held his cheek in her palm for a beat. She kissed him on the cheek and pulled him in for another long hug before shooing him off into the woods.

Beth watched the kid's retreating form. When all trace of the boy was gone, she trotted back to the car. Dean noticed her wipe one tear from her face as she settled in.

"We good?" Dean asked with his hand poised on the gearshift.

"Yeah," she responded wistfully. "Carl will keep my secret. Let's go."

He paused one more second, "You sure you still want to leave?"

"I'm sure."

"Okay," Dean dragged out the syllables skeptically, even though Beth still looked resolute. "But there are a couple rules you have to follow if you are going to hunt with us."

Her only answer was raised eyebrows.

"First, no chick-flick moments in the car… or outside the car, or ever really."

Beth laughed and the sound was infectious. He felt a smile tug on his own face. "So your confessions in the forest earlier were… what? Lines you memorized from Ironman or something?"

"Die Hard, actually. It's much manlier."

"Sure it is," her voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Rule two, you are never, ever, ever, allowed to drive my baby. Ever." They had made it back to the highway by now and the tires rolled effortlessly over the pavement.

"What if walkers eat your legs off and you can't reach the pedals anymore?" Beth relaxed against the leather seats. Covered in blood and dirt, with Sam's ripped blue shirt hanging loosely on her, she actually looked like she belonged in the Impala.

"Then you will be in charge of finding a brick to put on the gas pedal. But still, not allowed to drive," he insisted. "Rule three, driver picks the—"

Beth interrupted him mid-sentence, "Is there a laminated copy of these rules that I can read over or something? I have a feeling that you are just getting started and my head still hurts from that wendigo slamming it against the wall so many times."

Dean conceded that she did look exhausted. "Yeah, yeah I'll send over the contracts for you to sign later. Now why don't you try to get some sleep? At the speed I drive, we'll be back at the bunker in less than 10 hours and then you can finally shower so I don't have to smell you anymore."

"Shower? Ha-ha. Wouldn't that be nice…" she said longingly.

"It is pretty great," he said seriously.

She opened her eyes and stared at him questioningly until her face lit up like Sam's did whenever he solved a case. "You have _real_ showers?"

Dean just smiled enigmatically, wiggled his eyebrows at her and pressed firmly on the gas.

/

Please follow and review!

They will be back at the Bunker next chapter and we will see one of my ALL TIME FAVORITE Supernatural characters...


	9. Breakfast at Bunker Hill

Hey lovers! I have been swamped with school and my own health problems so this story was on a back burner. BUT there has been a recent influx of new followers to this story so I got so excited that I had to write a new chapter!

Thank you to all the new and old followers—your support SERIOUSLY inspires me so keep the comments/follows coming because it reminds me to take a break and do some writing!

UPDATE: I tried posting the chapter and something was messed up in the formatting but hopefully this second upload works better. Thanks arrowsandangels for looking out. :P

/

Chapter 9: Breakfast at Bunker Hill

It was almost light again outside when Dean finally stopped the car for good.

Beth never had fallen asleep on the drive, despite the fact that they drove all night. Instead, the pair had talked for hours about different things Dean had faced during his years of hunting. He told her details that even Sam didn't know. Dean briefly considered the possibility of her being some kind of witch that had forced him to tell the truth. But one side of him recognized that it was really just her non-judgmental face and sympathetic smiles that made him spill his guts.

Dean just told himself that he was tired and only kept talking to her in order to avoid falling asleep at the wheel.

"This is it?" She asked unimpressed, staring at the exterior door of the bunker.

He knew it didn't look like much, but the point of the bunker was stealth. No one would ever try to break down the walls with tanks like he'd seen at the prison she called home, because no one would ever look twice at the small, concrete entrance.

"Looks can be deceiving. You should know that by now, Princess," he winked at her before reaching into the trunk to grab both of their bags.

When he unlocked the bunker door, he heard her audible gasp behind him.

"Is there… is there real electricity?" Beth stared at the light bulbs lining the staircase.

He laughed loudly, "No, it's fake. The lights aren't really on. Close your mouth before a demon takes that as an invitation," Dean sauntered down the stairs, ready to drop from exhaustion after he threw the bags on the map table. "Sam!"

When there was no response he shouted louder while he walked into the library, "Sam!"

"Sam just got to sleep." Dean's automatic reaction was to reach for the gun in his waistband. He rested his hand on the grip but didn't pull it out. He recognized that voice. "We were up late last night braiding each other's hair and watching Scarlett Johansson movies."

The breath left his lungs as he sagged with relief. Her red hair radiated vibrantly against the green tiles in the room. They met in the center of the entryway and he pulled her into a hug, his chin resting on top of head.

"Damn, it's good to see you," he said finally letting her out of his grip.

"I know it is," Charlie said with a grin.

He checked her with holy water, silver and borax while she stood there bored. Clearly, Sam had already done these tests.

"How did you find us?" Dean leaned back against one of the tables.

"Nerd powers!" the red head started animatedly rambled on about how she generated her own power using solar panels and tapped into satellites still orbiting the Earth in order to find other locations with excessive movement of electrons or something like that. It's all meaningless to Dean, who just nodded his head absently. He didn't really care how she got here, but she was happy she was here now.

"You been helping Sam find Kevin?" he asked when she finally took a breath.

"Yeah, got a lead last night. Sam wanted to rest up before heading out. I guess you can come with us now!" Charlie beamed. Then finally, changing topic Charlie nodded at Beth. She was still awkwardly standing on the staircase, with her gun held limply in her right hand, "Maybe your new friend can come too."

"Uh… yeah. Maybe." Dean shrugged noncommittally. He did not think that Beth coming to search for Kevin and the Demon Tablet was a good idea.

"I'm Charlie," the red head looked at Beth with exuberant kindness that was so characteristically Charlie.

Beth holstered her weapon and continued down the stairs. He noticed that she was still limping heavily and he couldn't tell where the purple bags under her eyes went from sleepiness to actual bruises.

"Sorry for being so rude. I'm Beth. It's really nice to meet you," she held out her hand, still covered with flecks of dried blood, to Charlie.

"Wow! She's so nice and polite, not like your normal friends at all Dean!" Charlie looked surprised but still shook Beth's hand gingerly.

"Hey! That's not true. I've got plenty of nice friends… there's uh… Benny. I mean, he's a vampire but he's still got some old-fashion manners." Dean feinted offense at Charlie's comment and then went back to scoop up Beth's bag for her.

"So how did you end up with this old sack of bones?" Charlie asked Beth as the trio made their way down the hall to find an empty bedroom.

"He saved me… a couple times actually." Beth's eyes flicked up to him at Charlie's words but flittered away quickly and the joke he was about to make died on his lips. She looked dead on her feet.

"Look, Charlie, we've been awake for like three days. And I had to give Beth the whole 'monsters exist and they're trying to eat you' talk today. So you two girls can have feelings hour another time, yeah?" Dean grumbled.

"Oh I remember the monsters-exist talk. It's a doozy!" Charlie chattered.

Beth smiled meekly before addressing both of them, "Thanks. I could definitely use some sleep. I promise to be much more sociable in the morning. "

"This can be your room. Do whatever you want to it. We've got about fifty of them down here," he set her backpack that she'd collected at the prison down on the small table in one corner of the room. "This door locks from the inside and the whole compound is warded and secure so you can sleep with both eyes closed for once. If you need anything, I am three doors down," Dean pointed to his right. "and Sam is five doors down on the other side of the hallway."

"Oh and I am just two door down that way," Charlie gushed as she pointed down the left side of the hallway. "And I've got lots of comic books if you ever need something fun to read. You're welcome to any of them but just don't take the signed copies out of the plastic."

Beth beamed at her. Dean always thought was impossible not to like Charlie and apparently even in Beth's stupor she agreed.

"Bathroom is locker room style up the hall. Kitchen is behind door 23. Eat as much food as you want, no need to ration. You're welcome to anything in there… except the pie. I always have automatic dibs on pie."

Beth's eyes were drooping shut despite the fact that she was still standing up. "Thank you, Dean. For everything."

Dean wasn't even going to touch that chick-flick moment so Charlie and Dean backed into the hallway.

"Oh and Beth. There's a lot of… weird shit… around the bunker. Outside of the kitchen, it is best to just not touch anything. Assume everything has the power to curse you into oblivion."

"How very… welcoming," the blonde said with a laugh.

"Good night!" Charlie chimed as Dean shut Beth's door for her.

Charlie trailed after him as he went to his own room and whispered, "What happened to her? Was she all alone?"

"It's a long story, Charlie. She just… lost her family so be nice to her, okay?" Dean pulled off his boots and shed his jacket.

"I am always nice! But it will be nice to have some more estrogen around here. I mean, you boys are great and all but this team could use a little more girl power," she made little punching motions with her hands.

"Speaking of girl power. I am stripping and getting into bed. So unless you're prepared to see all the man bits that make you cringe, I suggest you hurry out of my room so I can sleep," Dean threatened as he started to undo his belt.

"Gross. Do not expose any skin while I am anywhere near you," Charlie complained with a wrinkled nose. "Although… you bring up an interesting point. Beth is really cute. Cuter than anyone I've seen since that Daenerys Targaryen cosplayer in 2011," her gaze slid out of focus for a moment until Dean cleared his throat. "Anyways… Got any idea what team she bats for?"

"She's been here twenty minutes and you're already making a play? You have been around too much testosterone," Dean mocked. "Just let the kid breathe before you go sniffing around that tree. She deserves a break."

"Relax, jeez. Just trying to see if I've even got a shot," the red head looked sufficiently ashamed at thinking of jumping the new girl though so Dean was satisfied. "I'm sorry, I've just been alone. Before I found Sam a few days ago… I hadn't talked to another person in over a year..." her voice drifted off sadly. But then she smiled again and began closing his door as she walked back out into the hallway, "Don't let the bed bugs bite, Dean."

/

 _They must have a chicken coop somewhere_ , she thought with wonder to herself as she pulled the eggs out of the fridge. Somehow she couldn't imagine Sam and Dean tending to chickens.

The kitchen was an absolute dream. Beth hadn't realized how much she had missed cooking until this very moment. She was reminded of helping her mother cook family dinners on Sundays. Beth would always finish her homework on Saturdays or Fridays so after church, she could spend all day with her mother on Sundays. As she flitted around searching for supplies and determining what she could make with what was around, Beth began humming a Garth Brooks song.

She was still wearing dirty jeans, because they were the only ones she had that wouldn't fall off of her thinning frame, but had changed into a clean shirt from her bag. Her hair was thrown up in a bun but she could feel it was still wet from her shower this morning. Or maybe this afternoon. It was impossible to tell what time it was in the bunker because there weren't any windows.

When she woke up, she wasn't surprised to realize that she didn't recognize the place. Beth had spent so many months on the run, sleeping on the floor of strange basements or tucked in the freezer sections of empty grocery stores, that no sleeping arrangements could surprise her. When she felt the springs of the mattress underneath her she thought she was back in the prison for a minute. But then she remembered she was in the Winchester's bunker. And she remembered that she could take a real shower. There had been showers at the prison but that had really just been an air pump with water they had to bring in themselves from outside, which meant the water temperature was always too cold in the winter and too hot in the summer. The shower in the Winchester bunker had been perfect. Having real water pressure and an adjustable temperature knob after all this time was as close to heaven as she had ever been.

While she continued singing she tried—and failed—to not think about yesterday.

Beth had left her family behind yesterday.

A large part of her still couldn't believe she had done that. They had been so close and so… whole. She wanted to run to them and wrap her arms around them. When Carl begged for her to return it almost broke her. But now, even though it defied logic, she felt weightless. Her family was safe. Her family was together. Those were two of the things that mattered most to Beth. Plus, she was no longer going to be trapped in a laundry room like Rapunzel up in a tower. She was going to be working to end this mess. And that felt good. It made her feel stronger than ever before.

Beth would help save the world. But first, she really wanted pancakes and scrambled eggs.

She cracked the eggs—the first chicken egg she'd touched since the farm—and mixed the batter. She also found a bag of coffee. Beth thought about making a pot but coffee was too precious to squander, so she sated herself by smelling the beans and smiling. Beth found bacon in the freezer and desperately wanted to make a few strips of that too. Dean had said they didn't need to ration but she didn't understand how that could be possible. While she waited for the pancakes to cook, she continued her singing and dancing.

"We better not be those friends in low places you're singing about," Dean growled from the doorway of the kitchen.

"Shit!" Beth cursed, her hand dropping from the knife she had instinctively reached for. "You—you scared me." An embarrassed blush crept up from her chest and she felt her whole face turning red. "How long have you both been standing there?"

"Long enough to think I should get you your own bag of coffee to sniff," Sam stumbled into the kitchen groggily with his brother trailing him.

"I—I'm sorry Sam. I shouldn't have just—opened it. He said I could help myself to the kitchen, so I thought—I could make breakfast for everyone… I shouldn't have assumed—Next time I will ask first," Beth stammered.

"No one ever has to apologize for cooking around here. As long as the food is good, you can sniff whatever you want to, Blondie," Dean assured her as he collapsed into a chair at the table. Beth raised her eyebrows at his attire: slippers and a robe. But decided she was in no place to judge since he had just caught her dancing in his kitchen.

Sam put on a pot of coffee that looked strong enough to keep a small country awake for a week and Beth cringed at the wastefulness. "Yeah, I don't know how Dean got you to agree to making breakfast and giving a private concert but I hope he does it again. I was getting really sick of Dean's doughnut-egg breakfast sandwiches so you can cook anytime you want."

Her face still burned at the thought that they had seen her dancing and singing and she felt guilty for using their food. "Are you sure? I don't want to use all of your food."

The brothers looked at each other and laughed.

"Don't worry about that. You couldn't possibly eat all of our food." Dean's smile was so big that she could count his laugh lines.

"What do you mean?" she asked as she flipped a pancake.

"This kitchen is… well it's under a spell. We haven't been able to find out what spell exactly but it means we can never go hungry. Everything that we eat from the kitchen, replenishes itself," Sam explained as he leaned against the counter while the coffee maker dripped.

"Best thing that witches ever did!" Dean shouted enthusiastically from the table.

"That's not possible…" Beth denied as she more poured batter on the skillet.

"Watch," Sam was smiling now too. And with the same excitement that a little kid might show off his finger painting to his mother, he reached over and pulled one of the bananas from the bunch sitting on the counter.

Beth watched in astonishment as another banana sprouted in its place, it was green and tiny but it looked like it was already growing in front of her eyes. "Woah!"

"Yeah, I just wish there had been some pie in here when that spell was cast," Dean complained wistfully from the table. He pulled the bacon out of the freezer and tossed strips on the already hot pan, "But at least there's bacon!"

She brought the finished plate of bacon, eggs and pancakes to the table. Beth brought some oranges and the powdered sugar too for good measure since she knew it wasn't wasteful. Dean chomped on bacon while slathering his huge stack of pancakes in sugar. Sam at least ate with his mouth closed and sipped on his coffee. The boys ate without anything more than satisfied moans for a minute.

"Should I go wake Charlie?" she asked before sitting down to make her own plate.

"Oh can I do it? I want to go wave the pancakes in front of her face and see if she pops up like a cartoon," Dean grabbed a plate of pancakes, already picking one up with his fingers and taking a bite while he hurried out of the room.

Sam guffawed and continued eating while Beth scarfed down her own food.

"Dean told me what happened… You doing okay with all this stuff?" he glanced down at her out of the corner of his eye. Even though they were both sitting, he still managed to tower over her from across the little kitchen table.

"Yeah. I always thought there was… something more out there. And after watching my mom get bitten on the kitchen floor and then shot twelve times outside of our barn, I doubt there's much else that could surprise me."

He stared at her, obviously not buying her bravado act, but he didn't call her on it. Instead he just said, "Uh huh. Well if you ever want to talk… I'm always here. And if it ever gets to be too much, you just let me know. We're never going to force anyone into this life."

Before she could respond, Dean and Charlie clamored into the room, all smiles and giggles.

"These are so good Beth!" Charlie gushed with the plate Dean had brought her.

"Yeah, the girl sure can cook," Dean agreed, shoveling another pancake into his mouth as he winked at her.

/

Dean leaned back in his chair with his hands on his distended stomach. He was so content after the huge breakfast Beth had cooked. Sam and Charlie were catching Dean up on all they had discovered in the last few days while he'd been gone.

"Charlie, I can't believe your magic nerd powers still work without the internet," he said in awe of her.

She beamed, "In a dark place we find ourselves and a little more knowledge lights our way."

"All right, Yoda. Don't get a big head," he fake scolded. "We still don't know if Kevin is really at this place. Save your gloating until after we find him."

"So let's go!" Charlie said, hopping up from her seat. "Should be able to get there in only four hours. Two if you let me drive!"

"Hey! You are never, ever, EVER driving baby! I've seen how you drive and you are a hazard."

"Either way, we should get going. We should be able to get him and get back here before dark," Sam tucked an old-school paper map into his back pocket and moved towards the door.

Beth had been silently observing the conversation while practically licking the syrup off of her plate. Now she moved into action, stepping away from the counter and falling into line with Sam.

"Beth. I think you should sit this one out," Dean stood from the table and watched as the blonde's face morphed from shock to insult.

"What is that supposed to mean?" She bristled.

Charlie bit her lip and gave him a tiny headshake from behind Beth's back.

"You've been on the run for weeks. Figured you can use a little recharging at the bunker. Plus, this will be boring. We're just going to get in, get Kevin, and come back. It's a milk run," he tried to be firm without being condescending.

She was clearly going to protest again, but her eyes flicked over to Sam.

And she sagged with defeat.

"Okay Dean. I'll just stay put," she said in a clipped, but courteous tone. She moved to wash her plate in the kitchen sink. He could have sworn he heard her whisper under her breath about being stuck in the kitchen again.

He wasn't sure what to make of Sam and Beth's little exchange, but was happy that whatever was going on ensured he got his way, "Good."

"Great. Do y'all have a place to wash clothes? I have some to clean and I can do yours as well," she averted her eyes now, looking like a puppy that had been kicked.

And suddenly he understood what was wrong.

 _Dumbass_ , he scolded himself.

"No time for laundry today, Torchy Blane. Sam and Charlie failed to find Cas. Sam will hang back with you, teach you the official Men of Letters handshake, and you can help him with the research," he informed her.

"Really?" her face lit up and she bounced a little on her toes but he noticed that she tried to contain her hope.

"Don't get excited yet, girl. You wanted to help and that means reading a lot of old, creepy books," he gestured around. "So nose to the grind stone you two. Charlie, you ready to put your money where your nerd powers are?"

"Hells yeah!" Charlie gave Beth's shoulder a small pat before standing my Dean's side in the doorway. "So what are you gonna give me for finding Kevin in only 3 days after you've been looking for him for like a year?" Charlie asked confidently. Dean only grumbled in response but Charlie continued excitedly, "I think I want you to cook me some apple pie. And I won't share any of it!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw the huge smile on Beth's face and Sam's nod of approval before following the redhead towards the garage.

/

Thanks for reading! I know this chapter was a bit of a set up for upcoming plot points. I have lots more plot mapped out so please review and follow!


	10. Big Hand for the Little Lady

A/N: Hey lovelies! I know the updates are irregular but I am so happy you are reading. LOVED all the reviews on the last chapter. Some of the ideas y'all mentioned were already in my outline for the story =)

Enjoy and please review!

/

 **Chapter 10: Big Hand for the Little Lady**

He showed Beth some of the less terrifying rooms in the bunker but he decided to save the dungeon for another day. Sam figured it was best not to show a teenage girl a secret room with chains and demon traps on her first day learning about the Supernatural world.

She looked like there were a thousand questions floating around her head when Sam finally sat her down in the library, but he couldn't exactly blame her for having questions. He just explained how they were looking for a Prophet of the Lord who was decoding a demon tablet that held instructions on how to close the gates of hell and hopefully end the apocalypse that was happening now. The Croatoan virus was a demonic virus so they hoped that when they shut the gates of hell, all demonic things—including the virus—would be trapped.

"Sorry, I kind of forget how much information this is to take in at once," he stopped himself after he watched her eyes start to glaze over. He realized he was giving her way more details than she needed in order to help them right now.

"Just a lot of stuff to memorize. When the world ended I didn't think I'd ever be back in a library studying and getting quizzed on Latin incantations," she smiled good-naturedly.

Sam was quite impressed with the girl. She was a quick study and had been fairly unfazed by a lot of what he was telling her—in fact she had already nearly memorized the demon expulsion spell. He wondered if it was because she was still so young when the apocalypse hit.

Weird was just part of her normal world, just as it had been for Sam.

"All right. I'll give you a break for now," he chuckled. "We should probably dig into the books on purgatory anyway. Dean will be pissed if we don't find anything new."

He passed her a few books across the table that contained information about the different realms and cracked open his own book. Sam only wished the Men of Letters had known about Angels. There wasn't a single book on them in the whole library—which made finding a way to help Castiel that much harder.

After the pair had read for a few hours, exchanging no more than a few muttered pieces of information from the books or Beth occasionally asking Sam what something meant, she closed her book and looked at him.

"How long have y'all been doing this?" she asked.

"Forever. I guess you can say it runs in the family," he laughed and shrugged, wanting to leave it at that. But Beth had a way of looking at you with such open curiosity and concern. Despite all he had told her that morning about killing things and how both he and Dean had been to hell at one point, she didn't look at him with any kind of judgment. He'd never met anyone like that. Even Dean judged him all the time. So he found himself continuing to speak, "My mom was killed by a demon when I was only six-months old. After that, my dad became obsessed with hunting that demon… and everything else. Which meant he dragged Dean and me around the country on these… hunting trips." Sam laughed again at the use of their old term that they had used to cover up their dad's job. "We found out later that our mom and grandpa had been hunters and our dad's family had been Men of Letters."

"So you never really had a choice, huh?" Beth asked sympathetically.

"I did and I left," Sam wanted her to understand that hunters did have a choice. That she could still leave if she wanted to. "I went to school, even had a shot at law school at one point. Then, I got out again just a few years ago. I even bought a house… but I always came back."

"For Dean."

It wasn't a question.

She'd only known him for a few hours and she could already read him easier than the back of a cereal box.

And as if her statement had summoned him, Dean burst open the front door with a slam.

Sam stood and could see the fury rolling off of Dean as he shot down the stairs and into the library. He tried to ask, "What happened with Kev—" but was promptly cut off by Dean shoving him violently back into the chair.

"You selfish jackass! He needed you." Dean shouted in his face. "Kevin was our responsibility and you just bailed!"

Charlie came running down the stairs looking terrified at Dean's wrath.

"What do you mean I bailed? We've been looking for him everyday!" Sam didn't bother to get up from the chair again.

"Before that. While you were playing house with your picket fence and your dog, pretending to live your apple pie life, he called you!" Dean paced along the front of the room looking like a caged lion.

"What? How did you—" Sam started but Dean cut him off again.

"Charlie found a way to access your old messages," Dean pulled five cell phones out of his jacket pocket. "Kevin called three of our phones. For months! Crowley was onto him. And by the looks of the place, Crowley got him, and the tablet, months ago maybe even years."

"Dean, I—I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Of course you didn't know. You turned off your phones. Left Kevin to die in the hands of the King of Hell with the book on how to defeat him and ditched me and Cas in Dante's worst nightmare," he ripped a small lamp out of the wall socket and threw it at the wall. The bulb shattered and the base left a dent in the dry wall. "Hope your little girlfriend was worth it. This is all on you, Sam."

"It's all on me huh?" He stood so quickly that the chair flew back and toppled over behind him. "I'm not the one that ditched Cas to save a vampire!" Sam still didn't know the full story of what happened in Purgatory. But he knew that Dean got out with a vampire while Castiel got left behind.

Dean's face turned into an ice-cold vehemence.

Maybe Sam should have been expecting it, but his right hook connecting with Sam's face still caught him off guard enough that he collapsed onto the hardwood floor. Dean moved to follow him, his fist already raised for another attack, but Beth climbed over the table and stood directly in Dean's path. Her back was to Sam as she faced his furious brother.

She didn't back down and after a second she said, "Why don't you go cool off?" In a tone like an angry mother telling a child to go to time out.

She looked so tiny compared to his brother and he had no idea where this young girl got the nerve to stand up to him like that. Sam was scared for a moment that her tone might set him off; no one had ever really talked to Dean like that before. But he dropped his fist and turned away.

Over his shoulder Dean said, "You gotta make this right, Sam."

As much as he wished it wasn't true… Sam knew he was right.

/

After several hours of intervals of silence or quiet rock music floating down the hall from Dean's room, Beth decided to confront him.

Sam told her not to bother with Dean, explaining that the brothers got into fights all the time and Dean would get over it on his own.

"So y'all never talk through your problems?" She said with concern.

"Dean's not really a talkative kind of guy," Sam shrugged. His left eye had a purple tinge and was swollen despite the ice she had put on it. Beth was still amazed and grateful that they had a working freezer; there had been a time when she believed she would never see another working refrigerator again.

"Yeah, I know the type," Beth scoffed, thinking of Daryl always brooding in silence. "I'll get him to talk."

It was with this intention that she knocked on his door two hours later.

"Charlie, I don't want to—" his voice cut off with surprise when he opened the door and saw Beth standing with a plate of food and a six-pack of beer. Dean chuckled nervously and said "Jailbait, you probably don't know this, but you just stumbled dangerously into every porn intro ever made, girl."

He was standing in the doorway, dripping with bravado. She didn't wait for him to invite him in, but instead pushed passed him into the room.

"First off, I'm not here to sleep with you," she scowled at him. "I am here, to feed you," the beers rattled as she set them down with force on the wooden table.

She saw his eyes light up when he saw the large burger and homemade baked French fries.

"Secondly, and not that it should matter, but I am 20… or maybe 21… I don't exactly know what month it is anymore. So I would appreciate it if you stopped callin' me 'Jailbait' if it's all the same to you."

He stared at her, surprised but appraising, and after a minute he nodded.

"Lastly, wanna play some poker?" she pulled a pack of cards out of her back pocket.

A huge grin spread across his face and he asked astonished, "You want to play poker against me?"

The pair moved to the chairs at the table in the corner of his room, Dean pulled the plate towards him and started devouring the burger immediately. He took such huge bites that his cheeks puffed out and she was reminded of a squirrel. She tossed the old leather books from the table onto his bed and began shuffling the cards.

"There are some rules," she explained as she dealt the first hand.

"No need to explain the rules of strip poker to me Non-Jailbait. Been playing since I was twelve." He had a smug smile on his face between bites and she knew he was intentionally trying to get a rise out of her. Daryl, her brother Shawn, her friends from school, all of them always did the same thing—trying to ruffle her. Everyone got a kick out of trying to shock the church-going daddy's girl.

"No wonder you are such an expert on jailbait, stripping at twelve!" she pretended to act scandalized. The fake expression dropped from her face and she turned serious, "But I think you'll want me to explain the rules: I win and you have to answer one question of mine."

He laughed as if this was the most ridiculous proposition he'd ever heard, "Are we playing poker or truth-or-dare? I didn't realize we dropped into Judy Blume's slumber party."

"Does that mean you're scared of losing to a little girl?"

"Thought you were all grown up, Non-Jailbait," he raised his eyebrows at her and cracked open one of the beers. "So what do I get when I win?"

"Well… what do you want?" Beth asked, suddenly feeling less confident in this game. She knew she was a good poker player, knew that she had a good chance of winning, but she still didn't know what to offer him to get him to agree to play.

He mulled this question over with all the seriousness of a stockbroker deciding what stock to put all his money into. And she began to squirm under his scrutiny. When he didn't respond for a full minute she worried that he was going to pull something awful—like making her actually strip or maybe make her agree to leave and go back to her family.

"Pie." Dean finally answered, still serious.

"Pie?" She was still unsure. Given his comments about porn she was worried pie might be some kind of euphemism for something more sinister. "Like you want me to bake you a pie?"

"Yeah. Georgia farm girl, cooks a damn good breakfast and dinner," he said gesturing to the empty plate that he had all but licked clean. "I'm assuming you know how to bake a pie."

"I do," she laughed in relief. Baking was something she could do.

"Great, so _when_ I win you will make me a pie."

"Deal," she smiled and she picked up her cards.

/

"Non-strip poker sucks," Dean complained opening his third beer.

Beth had just laid down a straight flush to his full house and she did a wiggly little victory dance in her chair.

"You want to answer my questions now or after I kick your butt through five more rounds?" she shuffled again and he watched her hands move swiftly.

"Just get it over with," Dean grumbled as he leaned back in his chair and tipped it onto two legs.

Her hands continued moving but she looked at him with narrowed blue eyes as if she was deciding which question to ask first.

"Why won't you tell your brother what happened in purgatory?" Beth stopped shuffling and looked at him expectantly.

"Wow. Not holding back are you, Jailbait?" Dean tried to keep his face neutral and block the images of purgatory from overwhelming him.

When Beth glared at his use of her least favorite nickname, he corrected with sarcasm, "Sorry. I mean: Beth." And he was rewarded with a smile from the blonde.

"What ever gave you the impression that I would go easy on you, Mr. Winchester?" she asked innocently but with a hint of a challenge sparking in her eyes.

He shook his head, still unable to shake her earlier talk about age. It was hard to reconcile her outward, innocent doe eyed appearance with the fact that she was 21 and apparently could beat him at poker.

"I haven't told him because he doesn't need to know," Dean shrugged stubbornly.

If she wanted to play hardball, then he would play.

"That's crap! That isn't even a real answer," she stopped shuffling the cards and leaned in towards the table.

"You never said they had to be good answers," he raised his eyebrows at her in a dare for her to defy him.

"Oh come on. That's like me making you a pie using fake sugar and a premade crust!"

He laughed, openly and it felt good to laugh. It had been a while since he'd genuinely had anything to smile about.

"You got me there, Betty Croker," Dean set his chair back on all four legs and took a long pull from his beer. "I haven't told Sam about purgatory because it's my job to take care of him. He fucked up, he quit hunting while I was gone and didn't even bother to look for me. I… I don't know if it was hard for him to do that or if it was easy for him to just fall into the All-American-Dream life he's always wanted. I don't even know if I want to know. But he doesn't need to know what happened down there. Everyday was running… everyday was being hunted by the worst things… everyday was… terrifying." His voice trailed off and he couldn't believe he was telling this girl all of this. She had pulled her legs up into the chair with her, setting her chin on her knees while she listened to Dean. Maybe it was easier to spill your guts to a stranger since she didn't have any expectations of him.

He cleared his throat before continuing, "It's my job to take care of him, and I don't want him knowing that after all the shit we've been through and hunted… there is still a place that could make me feel…" Dean couldn't finish that sentence. Not even in his own head. "It's none of his business what happened down there. Sam knows everything he needs to know already: it sucked, I got out and Cas is still there."

He expected pity but Beth just looked sympathetic. He expected her to make some sort of speech about how he should talk about his feelings with Sam or how he shouldn't be afraid of purgatory or some other bullshit. Instead, she just sat quietly and listened. Her blue eyes weren't blank but neutral. As if nothing he could say would surprise her or disappoint her or upset her and this lifted a weight off his shoulders.

And when he didn't continue, she didn't say anything to press him further.

She picked up the cards again and finished shuffling while he drained his beer.

"Ready for another beatin'?" she teased with her southern accent as she dealt the next hand while he opened another beer.

"Speaking of beating, how are you doing?" He could looked at the bruises from the fight with the wendigo, the stitches on her leg through the hole in her jeans, and he knew her shoulder had to still hurt from when he popped it back into the socket.

She laughed another musical laugh and winced when she poked at one of the bruises on her cheekbone, "Feel like I was hit by a truck, but sleepin' in a real bed and having an actual shower more than makes up for it."

He thought back to the other day, her hair had been muddy and knotted but today it looked shiny and soft. He could now see that she had freckles dusting her face that he hadn't noticed when her skin had been covered with dirt and blood. "Yeah, you look a lot better," he said without thinking. She looked surprised but he joked it off, "I mean you were so covered in dirt and guts it made you look like a Scooby Doo villain."

"Well I'm happy those meddling kids and that darn dog could help you see the real me, I guess," she laughed again.

Dean decided he liked having this girl—who laughed so easily—around.

But he thought sadly that there was no way she could stay this way after spending a few weeks in the Winchester's morbid, shitty world.

/

They stared one another down over the cards they just laid face up on the table.

"How are you so good at this?" he complained as she won their fourth hand in a row.

"You're easy to read, Dean." She shrugged and watched him narrow his green eyes at her over his last beer.

"I think you're cheating! Give me the cards, I'll deal this round," he snatched them up and began to shuffle. "But seriously, how did you get so good?"

"When you are the only one in the tiny town who doesn't drink, you find other ways to entertain yourself. My big brother taught me to play when I was about seven and hustling drunk people at parties got me through high school."

"So that's what you're doing here? Hustling me?" he asked as he dealt.

"Nah. You just suck," she said and laughed when Dean growled and glared at her. "It's all about your poker face, and I don't have one. My brother, Shaun, used to tell me that no one could read me because I smiled all the time whether I was winnin' or losin'."

After Beth won the fifth round with a Royal Flush, Dean tossed his cards in frustration.

"All right, all right. I'll go easy on you. I'll ask my questions another time. But you have 4 more questions of mine to answer, deal?" she bent over and picked up the cards that had scattered to the floor.

He drained the beer and she saw his eyes darken, pupils widening, while he watched her. She felt a thrill shoot up her spine like a fuse.

"Thanks. I think I've got my ass kicked enough for one day," he averted his eyes from her now, busying himself with collecting empty beer bottles into the trash.

"You did plenty of ass kicking too," she said.

He turned and raised his eyebrows at her. His green eyes were back to normal and she guessed she must have imagined the way he was looking at her before.

"Charlie said you went all 'Game of Thrones' on a huge group of walkers earlier and it's safe to say your brother's face will be feeling it tomorrow." Her words had their intended effect and she saw that he looked ashamed.

"Yeah, I guess I should go check on Samantha's feelings," he said sarcastically as he moved to the door with his dirty plate.

"Apologize while you're at it because he worked all day to recover Kevin's files."

"What?" He nearly dropped the dish.

"Charlie managed to get a hard drive from one of Kevin's smashed computers and they spent all day using their nerd magic to recover his files."

He quickened his pace as the pair made their way down the hall, skipping the kitchen and heading straight towards the library.

"What's in the files?" Dean asked eagerly.

"The demon tablet translations," she smiled when he actually did drop the dish. It shattered in the main entry way but Dean didn't even look at it as he raced over to his brother.

Dean looked over his brother's shoulder at the laptop Sam was working at.

"He separated it into several different encrypted files but Charlie should be able to crack them easy enough," Sam answered Dean's unasked question while gesturing to the redhead who was so entranced in her computer and headphones that she didn't even look at the brothers.

"We got it?" He spread his arms in excitement and looked like a football player ready to do a victory dance in the end zone.

"That's not all," Sam said with a smile.

His eye was bruised but Beth noticed that it didn't hamper how his face lit up when he got to tell his big brother good news.

"I think Beth found a back way into purgatory." Sam passed Dean the pair of ancient books she had been reading earlier. "Next time maybe you shouldn't mope in your room like a teenager so you can pull your weight around here," Sam chided his brother with a grin.

After Dean gave his brother a glare and inspected the books, he beamed at Sam who was sitting back in his chair looking smug.

Dean said, "Let's go get our angel."

/

A/N:

Thanks for reading! Your reviews and encouragement inspire me to keep writing even with the chaos of full time school and 2 jobs.

I am SUUUUPPERRRRRRR excited about the next few chapters because there are big plans for getting Castiel out of purgatory and it will set many things in motion… click follow so you can keep up with my sporadic updates. :P


	11. She Talks to Angels

A/N: Here it is, another chapter so quickly! What? It's a long one but hopefully you like it!

Please review and follow, since that's the only way to catch my irregular update schedule!

/

 **Chapter 11: She Talks to Angels**

They left Charlie clicking away on her laptop in the bunker's library. Beth was still amazed to see someone sitting in front of a laptop again. She never thought she'd ever see someone doing something so normal again… but somehow it didn't seem normal anymore. It had been almost 2 years since Beth had used a laptop.

There was no internet of course but Charlie was using her laptop to recover files from Kevin's old hard drive. Charlie had explained to Beth that they had found Kevin's belongings smashed and scattered in the science lab of some old high school. The room had been covered in dust—clearly no one had disturbed it in a while. There had been pools of dried blood and a decayed corpse. It had been dismembered apparently… but Charlie stressed that Dean was certain it was Kevin despite the fact that it was in pieces and had been dead for at least a year. Beth didn't ask any follow up questions about how Dean knew the remains belonged to Kevin.

After a full day and night of the Winchester's planning and packing, Beth helping when she could and Charlie grunting from behind her laptop screen, they were finally ready. Dean finished fiddling with his car when the Sam and Beth tossed their bags in the back of the Impala and then the three of them were on the road.

The drive was long and the Winchester brothers were not very chatty today. Dean had Metallica blaring out of the speakers but that fact somehow didn't stop Sam from reading some old leather bound book. Beth leaned her head against the cool window and watched the sun rise as they drove.

 _Three days ago Beth had been reading books about Purgatory in the bunker's library. Sam told her they had read all of the books before and that it was probably useless. So she eventually took a break and began reading an awful book about hell. It was a first hand account of someone who had been possessed by a demon and travelled through hell. She was having a difficult time wrapping her head around the entire idea of hell and almost put the book down because of how horrifying it was._

 _But then she found the part where the demon left hell. Briefly, it mentioned that after he finally got rid of the demon he woke up in a forest in South Dakota._

 _After pouring over every word in the book and not finding any more information about getting out of hell she showed it to Sam—he looked at her like she struck gold. Charlie and Dean had still been out looking for Kevin._

" _This sounds like Purgatory," Sam had told her. "Dean hasn't talked about it much but it matches the description in the other book," he waved idly towards the bookshelves behind him. He was quiet for thirty minutes, reading and re-reading the book and comparing it three other books he had laying open on the table. Finally he looked up with a smile, "I think this is it! I think you found a way into hell that goes through purgatory!" He pulled out maps and compared coordinates with levity in his movements._

So now, Dean was driving towards Black Hills National Forest with the music rattling her teeth.

The brothers chatted about things she didn't understand. She tried to pay attention, to learn about their world, but she found her mind wandering the entire drive. As the scenery flew by she wondered what Maggie was doing and if her family found another safe spot to stay. She hoped they could find a spot like the Winchester's bunker. Something inconspicuous and hidden. Beth realized that this had been the problem with the prison: it had been too big and too easy to find that someone was bound to try to take it eventually.

All of this new knowledge about angels and hell made her wonder what happened to her family that had died.

"What happens to a walker after they die?" she blurted without pretext to the brothers.

"They stop moving," Dean said jokingly as his eyes flicked from the rearview mirror to the road again.

"Do they go to heaven or hell or get stuck in purgatory?" Beth insisted.

"I don't know. I hadn't really thought about it," Sam answered honestly.

This confused her. In all their work with these other realms, they never even thought about where the walkers end up?

"You haven't known anyone who turned, have you?" This was the only thing that made any sense.

"Not personally… no," Sam said sympathetically. His tone told her that the sadness must have been evident on her face.

"Basically everyone we know was already dead or immune," said Dean from the driver's seat.

"Immune?" she said excitedly. "How are people immune?"

He shook his head, "Not people, angels or demons or people who have demon blood in their system."

"People with… demon blood?"

Dean tossed a loaded look at Sam, who answered, "It's rare… but it can happen."

The car lapsed into silence again after this but time, Beth noticed, the silence this time was awkward.

/

It was dark already when Dean pulled into a motel parking lot off of highway 18. Dean let Beth and Sam clear the room while he pulled most of their gear out of the trunk. It was already organized, one duffle was specifically packed to take into purgatory but he guessed that he wouldn't be able to sleep and he wanted something else to occupy himself with.

He was right.

He spent most of the night trying to count the number of bumps in the ceiling while Sam snored quietly in the next bed.

Beth had her own room again, which he guessed meant that she still hadn't deemed the brothers as completely trustworthy. But he was relieved that she wasn't in the room with them. After their poker game, he was finding her distracting. He knew a shrink would say it was just some sort of Oedipal complex because she was blonde and fed him like his mom. But Dean was inclined to think it was just because he hadn't gotten laid in so long.

His mind fixated on purgatory. Every time he thought about the sleepless nights he spent running for his life in that hellhole he was reminded that he should sleep now. But he couldn't even bring himself to shut his eyes.

When the sun came up and he hadn't slept a wink, he wasn't even surprised. He just kicked Sam's bed to wake him up and started taking the bags back to the car.

Dean was surprised to see that Beth was already awake, leaning over the hood of the Impala and eating a granola bar like some sort of magazine ad. Only she was engrossed in the maps she was studying spread out on the car and clearly had no idea that she was doing anything remotely suggestive. Which somehow made it worse.

He averted his eyes and went to toss the bags into the trunk.

"How long have you been awake?" he asked her, grabbing some of the food she had placed on the roof.

She stared at him as if it was blaringly obvious. "I cared for an infant for the last ten months. My sleep schedule is far from what I'd call regular." Inexplicably, she smiled. She was always smiling. He'd never met anyone so happy in his entire life. It must be like Disneyland on ecstasy in that brain of hers.

"You really raised that kid huh?" Dean chewed on a stale poptart that he assumed Beth had stolen out of a vending machine and wished it was pancakes and bacon.

"I tried my best… but I didn't know anything about babies. It was really everyone helpin' out, taking shifts, and teaching me things. " Beth blushed slightly and he could tell she was being humble.

He thought of Sam as a baby. Even though Dean would never claim to have raised Sam, his dad did little more than teach Dean how to change a diaper before handing Sam off to him.

Dean suspected it had been a similar case in Beth's situation.

But he didn't say any of that because Sam walked out of the room at that moment and joined them.

"You know where you're going?" she asked Dean as she folded the maps and slid off of the hood of his car.

"Of course I do, Magellen Barbie." He snatched the maps from her hands; Sam grabbed the rest of the food and the three of them piled into the Impala.

After another three hours of driving, and several hours of hiking while Sam used a compass and a pedometer to try to track their progress, they finally stopped.

"I think we're here," Sam confessed hesitantly.

"You think?" Dean was impatient.

He hated hiking. Loathed it actually.

Cars and roads were invented so that people didn't have to hoof it through the forest.

"This is the best I can do. There's no way to know our exact coordinates without a GPS and the internet," Sam tossed his bag into the dirt and started looking around.

"What will this door look like?" Beth asked. They hadn't seen any croats since they entered the national forest but she kept pulled her knife out anyway.

"Won't look like anything until we open it. You got the incantation Sam?"

He hitched his bag onto his shoulders and tightly gripped the machete in his right hand. If the leviathans and vampires were still running around purgatory, he would need it.

Sam and Beth both mimicked him and heaved on their own bags but he stopped them quickly, "What the hell do you two think you're doing?"

"Goin' to purgatory," Beth said at the same time as Sam said, "We're going to find Cas."

"No," Dean commanded and he tugged the strap of Beth's backpack off her shoulder. "You are still a rookie, and I don't even know if I can trust you to have my back yet. And you—" he nodded his head at Sam, "need to stay here in case something goes wrong."

"I'm not letting you go back in there alone Dean! Last time, you were stuck for a year," Sam's voice was loud and desperate.

"That's exactly why you need to stay here. If I get stuck in there again, you need to keep working on the hell trials with Charlie and ending the Croatoan virus. If we both go and both get stuck what will happen to the world?"

There was no way in hell that he would ever let Sam go into purgatory. Never sleeping, always being hunted, especially targeted because of their last name. Because of how many of those monsters they personally sent there.

"Dean—" Sam began to protest with his puppy dog eyes.

"No. I have been there before. I know the place and I know Cas. I can find him."

Beth was scowling and biting her cheek but she didn't say anything.

"Now, do the damn spell Sam. And if I'm not back in a few days just get back to the bunker and help Charlie," he tossed the Impala's keys to Sam who still looked like he was going to protest. "I know how to contact you if I need help. Just promise you'll get some shit done while I'm gone this time and don't put any dogs in my car."

Sam, finally understanding that Dean wouldn't budge, tucked the car keys into his pocket and nodded.

"Fine. I'll wait up here. But I'm not going to wait long," he finally dropped his bag. "If you're not back in three days, I'm coming after you."

"Hell no."

"If you know the place so well, it shouldn't be that hard. So I'll see you in three days either way," Sam opened the book to the page with the incantation and he stared at Dean.

They both knew the conversation was over. Winchesters were stubborn and neither brother was going to let the other take such a huge risk alone. Not anymore.

"Fine, see you in three days."

/

Sam and Beth sat around for two full days. They trekked back up to the road to get more supplies from the car but otherwise just read books and played cards in the clearing by the entrance.

She enjoyed Sam's company. He was eager to please, always patiently answering her questions, sharing food with her and they kept good conversation going. He had what her mama would have called 'an honest face.' He was easy to be around and it immediately felt like they had known each other for years.

He had just finished telling her the story of how Dean broke into his apartment at college to pull him back into the hunting life.

"…He was right, of course. I was out of practice. I was busy taking classes on polycentric cultural norms while he was still hunting with an ex-marine," Sam smiled at the memory and it was infectious.

"So you must be really good at this if you've been training since before you could even walk, huh?"

"I guess," he shrugged.

"If you knew that it was going to end up like this… would you have ever left for school?" She immediately bit her lip as if she could take back her question, afraid that it was too personal.

"Maybe. I mean… leaving Dean like that was the hardest thing I ever had to do. And maybe if I hadn't left, Jess would still be alive." He trailed off.

Sam was lost in thought and even though she wanted to ask who Jess was, she thought better of it. It didn't really matter; Sam would tell her if he wanted to.

After a minute, she changed the subject and pulled him out of his morbid reverie. "Do you think… maybe… since you're the expert…if its not too much trouble…" she stammered, losing her nerve and closing her mouth entirely.

"Oh, just spit it out. I've lived with Dean my whole life. I guarantee I've heard worse," he teased as he leaned forward on the folding camp chair he sat in.

"Could you teach me how to fight?" she blurted out so quickly that her words almost garbled together.

"Is that it? We could definitely work something ou—"

His answer was cut off when the portal blasted opened again and two figures stumbled out of the light.

Dean was holding up a man. Between the long, straggly beard and grime smeared across his face, she couldn't even tell what he looked like. The only sight that stuck out were his bright blue eyes full of terror. The stranger's arm was wrapped around Dean's shoulder and Dean's arm was around the man's waist, holding him up from completely collapsing. But when the man saw Beth and Sam, he jerked back and swung out wildly with his knife.

"Cas, Cas! Calm down, it's okay. It is just Sam. You're safe. You're not there anymore," Dean said firmly but soothingly.

 _Cas? Isn't that the name of angel? This can't possibly be an angel_ … she thought as she looked at the dirty, erratic man.

The stranger gripped Dean's shoulder as if it was a life raft in the middle of the ocean and his knuckles turned white. Beth wondered if the grip hurt Dean but he showed no sign of pain. He just looked calmly at the newcomer until the guy lowered his weapon.

Dean carefully lowered the man to the ground.

Beth wanted to run over and inspect the man for wounds. She'd been helping her daddy heal people since the walkers first started stumbling around so it was second nature to try to help people.

She hesitated when she got closer to the man, nervous that he might lash out at her.

She looked over at Dean, but Dean wasn't looking at her. He was still looking at the man now lying still on the ground. His breath was heaving and she couldn't tell if it was from running or from a panic attack.

"Castiel…" she spoke gently, like one might speak to a cornered animal.

He still flinched and his blue eyes popped open at the sound of her voice.

"Sorry… I didn't mean to scare you. I'm Beth," she handed him her bottle of water.

He looked at the bottle then at Dean, who nodded his approval, and then the blue-eyed man greedily chugged down the water in long, desperate pulls. He looked sad and guilty when it was empty and handed it back to her saying, "I am still not accustomed to needing sustenance, I'm sorry I drank all your water."

She couldn't help but laugh at his formality, "That's okay. We've got plenty more. Take as much as you need."

Sam brought over another water bottle and knelt all the way down to Castiel's level.

"It's really good to see you Cas," Sam smiled genuinely but Beth noticed that the angel didn't return the gesture. Instead he just drank more water.

Dean was still staring at Castiel with an unreadable expression. Sam seemed slightly confused by the man's cold shoulder but didn't say anything.

Beth, unruffled by the men's attitudes, asked, "Are you hurt anywhere? Bleeding?"

There was so much blood and dirt on the man's clothes that she couldn't tell what was new or old or even if the blood was his.

"I don't know," he answered in shock.

"All right. Well let's get you cleaned up and then we can get back to the car and take you somewhere safe." She motioned for him to take off his jacket that was basically just shredded cloth at this point.

"No! We cannot leave my grace!" His eyes were frantic again, he looked to Dean and grabbed the lapel of Dean's jacket in a death grip, "We have to go back and get it…"

"I know, Cas. Don't worry. We'll get it back, I promise. Just chill out for now man." Dean pried Castiel's fingers off of him.

"For now, let's get you cleaned up," she suggested. This time, she didn't wait for the man to take off his own jacket. Instead, she just started stripping him.

He hadn't even formally introduced himself but now she was tugging off his clothes. Beth was normally shy about nudity but when it came to medical emergencies, nudity was an entirely different thing. She didn't see a naked person; she just saw the injuries and how she could help them. In moments like this she was happy that she had followed her dad everywhere—to vet appointments, animal births and after the walkers came, all the surgeries he did on people. Plus, she studied all of the medical texts she came across. She smiled as she remembered how Daryl, Glenn and Michonne used to bring big textbooks home for her.

The man was wearing several layers of clothing but when she finally got his under shirt off she found what she was looking for. There were several superficial cuts and countless bruises in various states of healing. But there was one nasty cut in particular along his abdomen. It wasn't new, but it hadn't healed over because it was infected. The pus and the smell was enough to tell her it was not in good shape.

"Sam, bring me the alcohol and any medical supplies you brought. Dean, bring me clean shirts," she commanded and after a moment of stunned silence they sprang into action.

After quickly patching Cas up to the best of her abilities while on a forest floor, she helped him clean the dirt and blood off of his skin and eased him into clean clothes from Dean's bag.

The man was still twitchy, even the smallest forest sound made him jump and reach for his knife, but at least he looked human again.

"Thank you, you have a very gentle nature, Beth," Castiel said with those big blue eyes looking at her admiringly. "I am happy to see one of father's creations instead of Lucifer's."

She felt herself blush at his praise, and didn't know what to say at his casual reference to The Devil. So she just stood up and began repacking the medical kit.

Dean moved back over to Cas and leaned against a tree. The pair talked in quiet whispers while she and Sam packed up their gear.

"So what do you think of your first angel sighting, huh?" he asked her jovially.

"Um… not really what I expected, I guess," she admitted quietly. She didn't want to insult the angel.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. But nothing is ever exactly like the legends."

"I just… thought he'd be more..." she faded off, not really knowing what the word was.

"Angelic?" Sam supplied for her.

She laughed loudly and then remembered they were exposed in the forest and quieted her voice so as to not attract walkers, "Yeah. More angelic. Maybe with some wings or a halo."

"He's got wings," the younger Winchester waggled his eyebrows in a way that reminded her of Dean.

"Yeah, the angel has got some pretty badass wings. Now let's figure out how to get them back," Dean chimed up determinately from where he stood next to the fallen angel.

"Why'd you leave your grace in there Cas?" Sam asked, no longer whispering.

"The leviathan's wanted it. I do not know why. But they hunted me for it. I thought hiding it would make me less of a target," his voice got lost in a memory. Dean nodded in understanding. "But even if I didn't, I would not have been able to get through this door with my grace intact."

"Why not?" Beth asked, afraid she was missing something. However, Sam and Dean looked just as surprised as she felt.

"Grace can only be carried across the threshold of purgatory by an innocent soul," Castiel explained, still seated exhaustedly in the dirt.

"Cas, you dirty dog! You lose your _innocence_ and never told us?" Dean joked and winked suggestively at the angel.

But Cas just stared blankly at him, "I don't understand why that makes me a canine."

The Winchesters both chuckled. "Never mind, Cas," Sam said.

"So if we're looking for a virgin I guess that means I am about 15 years too late and Sammy just popped his cherry last year I think."

Sam gave a fake laugh at Dean's words and then said, "How are we supposed to find a virgin during the apocalypse?"

Then, two pairs of Winchester eyes turned to her simultaneously.

Sam had the decency to look slightly ashamed, as if he didn't really want to ask her such a personal question. But Dean had no such look. His eyes ran up and down her body appraisingly and he raised his eyebrows at her.

"You're awfully quiet over there, Goldilocks. Anything you'd like to share with the class?"

"I… uhh…" she sputtered, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks. She knew she must be as red as a tomato under the gaze of the three men.

"I apologize for interrupting Beth's sexual history but that is not the kind of innocence we are looking for," Cas finally stood up, though he was still tired enough that he was leaning against a nearby tree.

"What other kind of innocence is there?" Dean asked confused.

"The grace can only be carried by someone who has never killed a living soul."

Dean shrugged, "Guess that counts me and Sam out again."

"Beth? What about you..." Sam pushed his long hair out of his face as he looked over at her. "If you have, you can tell us, we will understand."

"No, I can't even count how many walkers I've killed," her voice shook.

It was going to be impossible to find someone who hadn't killed any walkers yet. There was no way they could get this angel's grace back.

"Walkers? This is a strange term for humans, but I suppose it is accurate that they walk," Castiel murmured.

"No, Cas she means the croats." He looked at Sam, "Do you think those even count? They already died before the virus takes over, so they're just soulless vessels right?" Dean was getting excited now; there was a gleam in his eyes when he looked to his brother for confirmation.

"Yeah. Everything we've seen shows us that the spirit of the person is long gone before they reanimate. It's basically just a corpse with a demon curse on it," Sam recited this information like he'd memorized it.

"So then her soul is still pure, or innocent, or whatever. That means she can carry your grace out for you Cas," Dean gestured at Beth wildly. It appeared he already volunteered her for the task. He started packing his bag up again with more food and water and weapons.

She felt like she was having an out of body experience. Her mind was yelling at her to shout 'no.' She had no idea what purgatory was like but if Castiel's state and Dean's brief conversation over poker were any indication—it certainly wasn't going to be a leisurely stroll through Disneyland.

Dean killed walkers more easily than most people swatted gnats.

And she had seen in his eyes that he was scared of purgatory.

That told her everything she needed to know about the place.

Sam's green eyes were assessing her reaction. He must have seen her freaking out because he walked over and placed one of his gigantic hands on her shoulder. His voice was gravely, but he kept it loud enough that his brother could still hear when he said, "You don't have to do this if you don't want to Beth. We can always find another way."

He was blocking her view of the other two men but she could almost feel their attention on her as if their gazes were heat rays.

"I want to do this, Sam. I came here to help and if we need Castiel's… grace… to stop all of this, then I'm gonna do everything I can to get it back," she smiled gratefully at him to let him know that she appreciated that he was looking out for her. But then she moved around him to pick up her own backpack.

She stepped over to Dean and tried not to cower under his look of admiration and appraisal.

Willing her voice to sound more confident than she felt, she asked, "So when do we leave?"

/

A/N: Hope you liked it! Please review :) Next chapter will send Beth into Purgatory…


	12. Let the Right One In

A/N: Hey lovers. Still writing this story, hoping that I can get quite a few updates now that it is summer! Thanks to all those who reviewed the last chapter: BooksWriteMusic, dixie326, RHatch89, AJ Granger. To those who were disappointed about the last chapter being "light on Charlie" don't worry. She will be in many more future chapters, she is a hard one for me to write because I have a hard time getting into her perpetually optimistic headspace but I will work on it! Thanks for all of the follows & favorites. Hope you enjoy this chapter—let me know what you think in the comments!

 **/**

 **Chapter 12: Let the Right One In**

When she first saw a walker from afar, her immediate reaction had been to help it. She thought it was an injured or sick person just like her father.

When she saw them up close, she still saw the person they used to be: her mother, her brother, her sixth grade teacher.

Only after she'd seen one rip apart Dale in the back yard with its bare hands did she see the walkers as what they truly were: dangerous.

It didn't take her that long to figure out that Leviathans were bad news.

In fact, she discovered how evil they were after only a few seconds of being in Purgatory.

It had looked like another human for a moment as it had approached her. But when it's face morphed into a gigantic mouth with teeth like a shark, she knew that she was in over her head. Beth froze in shock. Even though the Winchesters had explained to her what these monsters looked like, nothing came close to actually seeing it change and feeling it's hot breath on her face.

Luckily, Dean didn't freeze. He chopped off the things head with one smooth slice and black blood oozed out over the body.

"Thanks," she breathed.

He looked irritated, like he couldn't believe that he already had to save her life, and he reminded her so much of Daryl as grumbled at her, "Just stay close, would you?"

Dean pulled the crude hand-drawn map out of his jacket pocket and oriented it. He glanced over his shoulder at her once more, and then the pair took off at a jog. The forest was dense but it reminded her of running through the backwoods away from the prison with Daryl. Only this time, she was running towards something instead of away: towards Castiel's grace.

They saw several other Leviathans and two things that Dean said were vampires. But he just kept chopping off heads and moving on like nothing happened. She did as he told her, and stayed so close that she could feel his body heat radiating off of him as they ran.

Between periods of running and killing creatures, they walked for rest and drank water from their packs. Dean checked the map several times. But the forest was never ending. The scenery hardly changed and she suddenly felt like Alice in Wonderland falling through that never-ending rabbit hole. She had no idea how he could tell where he was going by looking at the map Castiel had drawn. It looked like chicken scratch and everything in this horrible place looked exactly the same to her; it was just trees and monsters.

After what felt like hours of this, darkness fell.

Dean turned to face her and whatever he saw there, he looked pleased. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah," she whispered. She'd never been so grateful that she'd been playing soccer since she was six and ran on the cross-country team all four years of high school—well at least until senior year got interrupted with the apocalypse. She'd gotten lazy while she was stuck in the prison for months but she was still in decent shape. Beth was tired but she could definitely keep running longer if they needed to.

However, Dean looked out of breath and exhausted. She guessed it was because he had been in purgatory for two days looking for Cas and now was back again. Plus, he was doing all of the killing, which must have taken a toll on him. Her axe was still shiny and clean but his blades were covered in layers of grime.

"Do you want to get some rest? Eat something?" she asked him.

"No, we gotta keep moving," he insisted through his ragged breathing.

"Dean. You need a break. Gonna get yourself killed if we keep movin' at this speed," she tried to keep her voice soft but hearing his uneven breaths and seeing the dark circles under his eyes made her certain that she was right.

"I'm fine. Let's just get it and get the hell out of here," Dean turned away and continued jogging. Beth sighed and followed at his heels.

Soon they came into a huge clearing. One of the strange things about this place was there seemed to be no moon or stars. There were no clouds that covered the sky but everything above the trees was just dark—it was like they were just sitting inside a giant warehouse and the lights just went out. Dean pulled out the map but Beth stayed on high alert. She heard the crunching of leaves on the forest floor before she saw anything. But suddenly it was on top of Dean. Without thinking she swung her axe and sliced its head clean off. Unfortunately, the axe kept going straight into Dean who was lying on the ground underneath the Leviathan. When she clipped his shoulder blood sprang out immediately and he let out a low hiss of pain.

Before she had a chance to reach down and help him up or look at his wound, she heard more footsteps behind her.

Beth turned around and swung her axe in one fluid motion. The Leviathan was shorter than she expected so she ended up connecting with its skull instead of neck like she was hoping. The force of her hit was enough for it to go down and she pulled back and chopped at his neck like it was a block of wood. Three more of them came after her and two went for Dean where he was still trying to staunch the bleeding on his shoulder.

They moved too quickly for her.

She was used to walkers—slow moving, clumsy and unable to think or plan.

Leviathans were faster than her and more terrifying than anything in her nightmares.

She got the axe into the first one's neck but then the Leviathan was on her. He grabbed her arm and made to bite her. With her left hand she grabbed the hunting knife on her hip and shoved it down the creature's open throat. He was so surprised that he released her and she ran out of his reach.

However, now she had lost her two weapons and would have to open her backpack for another one.

 _No time. No time. No time_. Was on repeat in her head.

She thought of Dean on the ground bleeding and the only thing she could think to do was lead them away from him.

She wouldn't be able to keep them occupied for long—they would catch her and kill her easily without any weapons. But it would buy Dean time to get out of there. Hopefully she hadn't injured him so badly that he would be unable to fight. He'd have to fight to get back to the entrance and then he could come back later with more people—better fighters than her—and get the angel's grace.

"Hey assholes!" she yelled at the ones who had started on Dean. She dropped her backpack to lighten her load and to give Dean more weapons. "Your meal is to-go today! That is… if you can catch me." Beth had already turned and started running.

From the heavy sound of footfalls behind her, she could tell that all of them had followed her. They must assume she would be an easy meal and they could go back for Dean. They definitely weren't wrong… but if he was smart, he would be long gone by the time they finished with her.

She sent a silent prayer for Dean and her family as she sprinted. But her prayer was cut short when Beth was yanked violently off of her feet. She hit the ground and the breath was knocked out of her. The Leviathans were on her already. She hadn't even made it 20 meters.

Beth closed her eyes, not wanting their disgusting faces to be the last thing she saw.

But then, they started screaming all around her.

She opened her eyes—preparing herself for an even greater threat. Instead, she saw the Leviathans… disintegrating.

"Beth, let's go!" Dean shouted over their pained screeches.

She immediately complied, scampering to her feet and running to his side.

He was still bleeding from his shoulder but she could almost laugh at the sight. He was holding a kid's squirt gun, spraying the creatures with what looked like simple water. Sam had told her that borax was their weakness but she honestly hadn't believed it until right now.

She grabbed his machete, stepped into the stream of soap water and chopped their heads off while they screamed.

The pair retreated after that, back to the clearing where Beth grabbed her backpack and weapons.

They ran for twenty minutes as hard as they could. Dean was still in the lead with his water gun raised and Beth watched his back with the axe held tight in her fingers. But when she glanced at Dean and saw that his skin had no color, she grabbed the back of his jacket and stopped him.

"In here," she whispered as she pulled him into a small crevasse between some boulders and a huge tree.

"Keep that aimed at the door but take off your jacket. You're losing a lot of blood, I gotta wrap up your shoulder," Beth commanded, motioning at the water pistol.

Dean was terrifyingly pale when she forced him to sit. The blood was already soaked through his T-shirt, flannel and was beginning to stain his jacket.

She made sure he still had a clear view of the entrance as she got to work on his arm. The cut wasn't deep so thankfully it wouldn't need any stitches, but it ran from his collarbone all the way across his shoulder and down his bicep. "I'm so sorry, Dean," Beth muttered as she cleaned it and applied pressure.

He took his eyes off the front and looked at her. "It's fine, Beth. Never apologize for killing those leaches." But he didn't look away, he kept staring at her and she felt her face warm up. Being this close to a shirtless Dean, with his warm skin under her fingers and his green eyes looking at him with indescribable pride suddenly made her forget where she was.

But then there were voices outside and she snapped out of it.

He pulled her against him so he had a clear shot if something tried to get into their hiding spot. "Shhhh," he whispered in her ear, close enough that she felt his lips graze her. Beth tried to slow her breathing, but her heart was pounding so hard that she worried the monsters would be able to hear it from a mile away.

However the voices passed and faded. After a few more minutes, Dean released his grip on her. The front of her shirt and neck was now covered in his blood too from where he had pulled her up against him.

She finished closing up his cut with a bandage and gauze and then pulled his shirt back on while she dug a water bottle out of her bag. He drank it greedily and she was happy to see some color had returned to his face during their rest.

"Don't ever do that again," he growled at her out of nowhere.

"Do what?" she asked confused.

"Try to play hero. Running off like that, alone and weaponless. What the hell were you thinking?" She could tell that Dean was itching to raise his voice but he kept it low so they wouldn't attract more of those monsters.

"Don't patronize me. I had to lead them away from you. I was outta options," she hissed. "You would've done the same thing."

He clenched his jaw and looked at her in a way that confirmed what she just said but then pulled on an irritated mask again, "Well I shouldn't be anyone's role model. So just don't do it again."

"Yeah, okay." Beth looked down at herself just to have something else to do besides look at Dean. She was covered in black Leviathan blood, sweat, dirt and Dean's blood. She didn't remember falling but she must have since she was muddy. "You lost a lotta blood, so you should get some rest. I'll keep watch and we can start up in a few hours again."

"You need rest, too. You sleep first and then we'll trade."

"No, I'm fine," she insisted stubbornly, moving to take the water gun out of his hands.

"Beth, you've gotta be tired. Just get some damn sleep."

"Dean, you're more tired. _You_ get some damn sleep," she imitated his forceful tone. "You were down here for days with Cas and you've been fightin' those things all day." When he looked like he still might protest she smiled and continued, "Plus, you're an old man… and old men need their naps."

He glared at her but there really wasn't any venom in it. "Wake me up if anything happens." Dean handed her the water gun and crossed his arms as he leaned against the back of the tree and fell asleep.

The sounds of chaos and footfalls kept her alert all night. Beth was exceedingly grateful that it was Dean with her and not Sam—Sam's snores would have alerted anything in a 3 mile radius to their presence.

She let him sleep for several hours while it got darker and darker. Without any stars or moon in the sky the woods became darker than anywhere she'd ever been. It was a suffocating kind of darkness that made her feel like she was trapped in an underground cave despite the large trees growing around her. The footsteps and transient screams or carrying voices that she heard periodically only made her more terrified.

Dean's breath was the only thing that comforted her—having another living, breathing human giving off warmth by her side.

Beth wondered how Dean managed to do this, survive down in Purgatory, for a whole year on his own. She hadn't even been here for a full day and she already felt changed—on edge, restless, twitchy.

There was a gnawing feeling of guilt in her stomach and she couldn't believe she had asked about it during their poker game. After being here herself it was no wonder that he didn't want to talk about it with his younger brother.

/

When he woke up he immediately flinched and grabbed his knife because there was a figure between him and the door.

He remembered where he was and lowered his knife when Beth turned to look at him. As his eyes adjusted he could make out her tired face in the thin light of an approaching dawn.

Dean had slept through the night. He couldn't remember ever sleeping for more than an hour at a time when he had been in Purgatory alone.

"Quiet all night. Think they are just waiting for us to come out?" she asked so quietly he might not have known anyone was talking if he hadn't seen her lips moving.

"Nah. They aren't really the patient type," he answered with a hoarse morning rasp. He sat up and wiped his hands over his face. "You should have woken me."

She shrugged, "Didn't have a way of knowin' how much time had passed without the moon. Let's just get up and get the hell out of this place."

Beth was stubborn and maybe a little masochistic but she was definitely proving to be way tougher than her meek exterior suggested. That stunt of self-sacrifice and leading the Leviathans away yesterday reminded him of something stupid he or Sam would do.

The pair emerged from their hiding spot, Dean oriented himself with Cas' hand drawn map again and they took off at a jog. It turned out that they had slept—or at least Dean had slept—pretty close to where Cas hid his grace. Dean could have slapped the angel. His scale of distance was so off. If Dean had known they were this close last night he would have kept moving instead of sleeping and they might have been out of here already.

When they arrived at the spot marked on the map Dean pulled the spade out of his backpack while Beth stood guard with the soap gun. His shoulder stung painfully while he dug but soon enough he found the warded box. It was hand carved and he could have laughed at the thought of Cas in purgatory whittling a wooden box for his grace.

"Beth come here," he pulled out the map, which had the incantation on the back and tugged her left arm roughly towards him. He pushed up her sleeve and then gave her an apologetic glance, "This will probably sting."

She nodded, they had already explained how they would have to cut her arm in order to allow the grace to enter and bind to her.

Dean once again noted the pale scars along her wrist. He could guess what they were, but didn't say anything about them. Maybe one day he would mention it, but now was definitely not the time or place.

He recited the incantation, cut her arm as gently as you could cut another living person and opened the box.

Beth's whole face glowed brilliantly under the radiant white light of the grace and he watched her astonishment as the liquid-like substance wound its way under her skin.

The cut on her arm instantly sealed itself up, leaving perfectly unblemished skin behind.

She stared at it open mouthed and ran her fingers over the spot. The only evidence was the bluish glow under her pale skin.

Her amazement was dampened when three Leviathans strode through the trees towards them. The blonde sprayed them with the water and Dean lobbed their heads off. They didn't even need to speak, working in seamless conjunction.

Once they were all unmoving in the dirt, Dean said, "Ready to get out of here?"

"More than ready," she nodded. He looked at her and noticed that she no longer looked tired. The purple bags under her eyes had disappeared and the bruises she had from all the wendigo fights were missing too. Cas' grace must have healed her. Dean was grateful for this; it hopefully meant she wouldn't get tired on their way back to the portal.

He took them along a different route from yesterday but similarly alternated between running and walking. Beth didn't even look like she was out of breath when Dean had to stop and rest.

"Feelin' okay?" she asked him, concerned as he knelt over with his hands on his knees.

"Peachy," he grumbled.

She chuckled but then turned quickly. More than a dozen shadowy figures were sauntering out from behind trees. He hadn't been able to hear them over the sound of his own ragged breathing.

One came through the trees at them and he knew something was wrong. Beth sprayed them with the water but it had no effect on them. No burning, no screaming.

"Vampires," he told her as he lunged at the closest one to him.

Two more were on him but he managed to chop one of the vamp's head off and he smashed the other one into a tree before lobbing his head off with the machete too. In the brief respite between attacks, he pulled his backpack off and tried to find the needles of dead man's blood he had brought.

He felt the teeth sink into his neck from behind before he even heard the vamp coming. He was really off his game today.

Dean pulled the bloodsucker from his body, slamming it to the ground and pressing the blade through its neck. Without the momentum of a full swing, it took longer than he would have liked to get through its neck. The creature's mouth was still slick with Dean's own blood when it finally stopped moving.

Beth screamed and he turned to help her. There were six vampires who had gotten into the space between them but he could see that one was now feeding on her. He stood, adrenaline surging as he prepared to fight his way through them to get to Beth.

Just as he raised his machete to the first one's head, a blinding light started to emanate from Beth's direction. The other vampires turned to see what was happening as their buddy who had been snacking on Beth screeched. Dean recognized the light and covered his eyes with his arm. When the screaming stopped, Dean tentatively glanced over and saw that the vampire that had been feeding on Beth was now dead. Its eyes were missing and its face looked like it had melted off.

He'd seen that before.

He looked around and saw that all the vampires closest to him were fried blind. Several looked dead but two were still moving. Dean was trying to chop all of their heads off, which was considerably easier when they were blind. He saw as one jumped out from behind a tree and lunged at Beth. She stopped it by throwing her hand up and putting it on the monster's chest. Energy seemed to flow out of Beth and the vampire exploded from the inside out. Beth dropped to the ground panting. Dean glanced around and noted that none of the vamps had heads, not wanting any more surprise attacks.

"Beth! You okay?" he kept his machete in hand as he ran towards her.

When he reached to help her up she flinched away and screamed, "No. Don't touch me."

He held his hands up away from her, confused by her panic, "What's wrong?"

"I… I don't want to hurt you," her eyes flicked over to the pile of vampire corpses. "I don't even know how I did that. I just touched him and he… he exploded. So just… don't touch me… I don't want to do that to you."

"It's Cas' grace. You must have tapped into his powers somehow. Feel your neck, it's all healed already," Dean motioned towards where the vampire had bit her earlier. It should have been a gaping bite mark—in fact his was still oozing and painful. But instead there was only dried blood caked on her neck but no teeth holes. Her blue eyes went wide with astonishment as she felt for an injury that had already healed. "Cas's grace won't hurt me. It's okay. Trust me."

This time, when he moved to help her up, she didn't resist. She took his hand and stood.

"Are you okay?" she asked him, looking at his neck with concern. He had dropped her hand but she didn't move away from him.

"This is just a little flesh wound. Just grab me a clean shirt, I'll wrap it and we can keep going." He found her stepping even closer to him, with her hand outstretched and a laser focused look in her eye. It was like she couldn't tear her eyes away from his wound. For one fleeting second Dean was worried that maybe the vamp had turned her and she was staring at his blood.

Her small hand grazed his neck and he felt the familiar sensation of an angel's speed healing, as the warmth spread through his body like whiskey on a cold night.

She pulled her hand away and it was sticky with his blood but when he felt his neck it was healed. He tugged his shirt away from his body and peaked under the gauze Beth had put on him last night. The cut from the axe was gone too.

Beth had just healed him.

He tried not to be weirded out.

Dean hadn't expected Beth to take on Cas' powers since Cas wasn't really using her vessel. He hadn't gotten any of Benny's vampiric powers when he carried Benny in his own arm. So why was Beth sucking up Cas' mojo? He'd never known anyone to carry an angel like this… probably because no one who hung out in his normal circle of friends was "pure of soul" like Beth.

 _This is probably normal for someone with an angel in their arm._ He told himself. And he decided to put it out of his mind. Once they escaped purgatory, then he'd worry about it.

"All right, Roma Downey. That's enough angel juice for you today. Grab your shit and let's go."

/

A/N: What did you think?

I know some of the messages/comments I got wanted to see people that Beth knew in purgatory but since walkers are just basically a reanimated corpse they are not really monsters in the same way that a vampire (with conscious choice) is. The human that they **were** before reanimation would **not** be in purgatory; their soul would either be in heaven/hell. So I decided that purgatory would be a walker-free zone. However, I know some of you want to see some Walking Dead characters and I do have plans to meet up with them again. Hit that "follow" button so you don't miss an update and drop me a review with some of the characters you want to see most!


	13. Cut me, Mick

**I'm back!**

 **Sorry it has taken me so long, life gets in the way. But this story has still be rattling around in my head and I do have plans for it. So stick around.**

 **For now, thank AJGranger for the kick in the pants that got me writing again.**

 **If the formatting looks strange, let me know. There may have been an issue with the upload.**

 **/**

 **Chapter 13: Cut me, Mick**

Six hours into the car ride home he couldn't wait any longer. Sam was driving since Dean had been awake and running for his life for several days. Glancing into the backseat, he saw that Beth had her legs tucked up with her head resting on her knees and Cas was staring contentedly out the window. Dean wondered why Cas looked so happy—was he glad to have his grace back, relieved to be out of purgatory, or was it something more? Dean had been flipping absently through some old book on his lap but he hadn't read a single word.

Dean cleared his throat and asked, "So Cas, how does it feel to have your mojo back?"

"It feels excellent, of course. Being human is always horrible. It makes me feel weak and vulnerable, although I do enjoy the food. But there wasn't any good food in Purgatory." Castiel said without a filter.

"The grace, it doesn't feel any… different… or anything?" he hinted, trying to see if something had gone wrong when it had been carried by Beth.

"No… It's definitely my grace." Cas was thinking with a face like some dude at a wine tasting.

"Why? What happened back there?" Sam asked while keeping his eyes plastered on the road, and Dean knew that his brother had picked up on his strange tone without even needing to look at Dean's face.

"Well, when we did the spell… Blondie went all Samantha on me," his eyes flicked to Beth's in the backseat and she looked simultaneously angry and scared—as if she couldn't believe he dared to mention that but also like she was terrified to hear the answer.

"She turned into a female version of your brother?" Cas asked perplexed.

"Dude, no. I mean Samantha from Bewitched," Dean scrunched his face up and looked between Beth and Sam, shaking the image of the two of them out of his mind's eye.

"You mean she had powers?" Sam asked, thankfully picking up what Dean was trying to say. Sam glanced back at the blonde in the rearview mirror, intrigued.

"Yeah. She torched a whole nest of vamps and healed both of us. It was… well… it was pretty badass. But Cas wasn't in her like a normal angel possession, so how the hell did she tap into his powers?" Dean questioned.

Cas turned and stared at Beth with intense evaluation. She looked uncomfortable under his scrutiny, particularly when he leaned so close that his nose was only a few inches away from her ear. "That is quite unusual. It may be that she is an ideal candidate for a vessel and the spell acted as some form of her permission."

"Cas, personal space!" he commanded as the angel continued to get closer to the girl. "And stop talking about her like she can't hear you."

"My apologies."

Dean watched the girl smile at Castiel and one of her hands patted the angel on his hand. "You've already been inside me, I think we're past worrying about personal space."

Sam chuckled nervously at first but Dean laughed harder than he had in years and soon Sam was laughing too. He had definitely not expected something like that to come out of her mouth. She smiled brighter and seemed genuinely happy. Castiel furrowed his brow and did not understand the double entendre.

"What's so funny? Did I miss another popular culture reference?"

"No, forget it Cas. More like something you might learn from the pizza man."

Sam got them back on subject, "So Beth might be a vessel… but whose vessel?"

"I don't know. If I was still connected to Heaven I might be able to find out. But I… I am no longer hearing anything from Heaven. While I was in purgatory I could initially hear the other angels. That was how I learned about the croatoan virus being released and heard about all of the deaths. However, about a year ago everything went completely silent. My brothers and sisters abandoned humanity, they believed that God sent this plague like the floods to start fresh."

"So those dick bags are just gonna hide in heaven for another 2000 years while the rest of us fight and die?" Dean raised his voice impossibly loud in the small car.

"I believe so, yes." Cas responded candidly.

On that ominous note, the car fell into an uneasy silence as the Impala sped onwards to Lebanon.

/

Charlie was still where they left her curled in an armchair with various electric gadgets around her. There were several power cords surrounding her and dirty plates piled in little stacks nearby.

When she saw them, she jumped up and had a smile that took over her entire face. She pulled both the Winchesters in for a suffocating hug.

"Did you even shower while we were gone? You look like Sam's sixth grade science project," Dean lifted a piece of her hair with disgust.

When she looked up at him, she glared, "You're one to talk." She wrinkled her nose at his shirt covered in blood, sweat and dirt.

"You should all get cleaned up and get some rest," Castiel instructed all of them like a dad trying to tell his kids to go to sleep.

Charlie started to protest but Sam and Dean gripped her arms and dragged her out of her chair and down the hallway towards the bedrooms.

Beth was tired, she hadn't slept in days, but she also somehow still felt like she was glowing from the inside. She had given Castiel's grace back to him as soon as they emerged from Purgatory's door. Sam muttered a reversal spell and she sliced her own arm open to watch the glowing white grace flow out of her body and back into the angel. However, Beth still felt… changed.

Castiel stood awkwardly in the library. When his grace had been restored she watched as he transformed from a wild beast into someone who looked like an innocent accountant. The grace restored him, leaving him clean-shaven and completely healed. He was certainly not what she expected of an angel. She'd been to church every Sunday and read the bible almost everyday growing up. She'd certainly seen enough stained glass windows in churches to feel certain that when she finally saw an angel it would have wings, a halo and be surrounded by a constant, radiant light.

Although she was having trouble accepting that this man was an angel, there was no way to deny his power. She had seen it heal Dean, watched as she easily burnt the vampires. She had felt his power run through her own veins.

So it was with this in mind as she approached him carefully from behind.

"Cas…Castiel?" She had heard the brothers call the angel by a nickname but she wasn't sure if she was allowed to use that name. Beth figured it was better to use proper, polite names when speaking to an angel.

He turned around but didn't seemed surprised to see her there. "Yes, Beth?"

"Can you… I was hoping you could tell me…" she stammered, feeling suddenly nervous under his piercing blue gaze. "My mom and my brother… they got bitten… are they in Heaven? Are they safe and happy? And… together?"

Wrinkles appeared on his forehead. She couldn't tell if he didn't want to answer her question or if he didn't know the answer.

"Since I am disconnected from heaven, I do not know who has entered recently," he answered apologetically.

She nodded absently. Beth hadn't really expected an answer and she couldn't fault him. But there was another nagging question on her mind—one that was less recent that Castiel would probably be able to answer.

She bit her lip anxiously and glanced back down the hallway where the Winchesters had taken Charlie but it was still empty. "What is it like?" she whispered.

His blue eyes pierced hers with laser-like intensity, "Heaven?"

Beth nodded, silently praying that he would answer the question she had wondered since she was five years old sitting in a church pew.

"It is everything you dreamed of Beth," he smiled reassuringly. "I have been told that people are not meant to know what the afterlife holds before their time, it is not healthy for mortals to dwell on the afterlife. But if you continue on this path of morality, heaven will be good to you."

"Thank you," Beth smiled. It made her feel better to know that her parents, brother, and all her old friends were in a better place. When the walkers came and everything changed. Doubts began festering in her mind. She never confessed them to her father—who continued reading his bible until the day he died—but she had begun to doubt everything she'd ever learned in church when she saw her brother get bitten by her third grade teacher.

"You are a woman of faith, we could certainly use more people like you in the world. Now, do you know where the laundry room is? I would like to clean these clothes I have been stuck in for years," Castiel changed the subject so abruptly she almost laughed.

She told him where the laundry room was and then retreated to her room to get some sleep for the first time in days.

/

Beth woke up after only a few hours of sleep and immediately went to the kitchen to make breakfast. She was surprised at how refreshed she felt despite the little amount of sleep she had gotten. Sam was the first one to join her in the kitchen and she waited patiently and silently while he ate breakfast and woke up. He didn't exactly seem like a morning person and she didn't want to upset him before she asked him for a favor.

"So, uh… Sam?" She hesitated.

The tall man pushed his long hair out of his eyes and looked at her expectantly.

"I was wondering… if it's not too much trouble that is…" Beth continued. She always hated asking people for favors. These men had taken her in, saved her, fed her, clothed her, gave her a safe place to live and now she was asking for a favor on top of it.

Sam smiled, a big genuine smile but still didn't say anything. He just waited for her to continue stuttering while biting back a chuckle. She really wanted to glare at him but she knew it would only make him laugh more because she was about as threatening as a wet kitten.

"I was wondering if you'd still be willin' to give me some lessons… like we talked about," she mumbled with as much politeness as she could muster while feeling supremely guilty.

Beth continued, trying to give him a chance to back out of his offer while she busied herself washing Sam's breakfast dishes. "If you don't have time, I will understand. But I just thought since we were kind of still waiting for Charlie to decode the notes. I was training with Daryl before… learning to hunt and track and shoot a crossbow. But I'm useless in a real fight. Michonne tried to get me to do pushups and stuff but the only real workout I got was carrying the baby—"

Luckily Sam cut her off before she could continue rambling nervously.

"When do you want to start?" Sam asked her, standing up from the metal table with his coffee mug still in hand.

"Well, I could start as soon as I finish making breakfast for everyone," she said tentatively, not wanting to get her hopes up. She didn't think Sam would go back on their agreement but she still didn't really know him that well.

"Forget that. You've cooked every meal for us since you got here. You're not our personal chef, Beth. They can eat some cereal for a change" he tossed back the rest of his coffee, leaving the mug behind and gesturing for her to follow him out of the kitchen. "Let's go!"

A huge, uncontrollable grin spread across her face. Sam—the biggest guy she'd ever seen in her life—was going to train her to fight.

Plus, she was officially off kitchen duty for the first time since the apocalypse started.

And that was hugely liberating.

/

Several weeks passed with a similar pattern.

Beth and Sam would both wake up, eat breakfast together and then train in the bunker's gym. There were weights and punching bags and a million other things that Beth still didn't even know the names of yet. He taught her how to throw proper punches, how to kick someone and make it hurt without falling over on her butt, he even showed her how to get out of certain holds—like if someone tried to strangle her. She was hesitant at first, thinking that he was teaching her stuff that she would never use, but then Sam would tell her a story of some monster attack and then she would re-double her effort in whatever skill he was teaching her that day.

The morning was all hand-to-hand combat but in the afternoons they would go to the shooting range or Sam would make Beth lift weights or run with him. She hated the runs because they never went outside. They just ran in circles on a tiny track in the compound. She missed long rides on her horses across the farm and into the surrounding forest.

Beth still made dinner for everyone most nights, although Cas never joined them. The angel wandered around the bunker aimlessly. He flinched if you approached him too quickly and had a haunted, hollow look in his bright blue eyes. Whenever he talked he seemed happy enough but when he was alone he seemed to recede into himself like a turtle in a shell. Beth knew he didn't sleep because of the angel lore Sam told her and so she was never surprised to hear his impossibly quiet swish of his trench coat through the hallways at all hours of the night.

Beth wasn't sure where he had gotten the brand new trench coat. She suspected the elder Winchester had something to do with it. Dean already had a room specifically set up for Cas when the angel arrived, even though he never slept, changed his clothes or did anything else one would normally do in a bedroom. When she asked Sam about it one day he just smiled a sad kind of smile, and shrugged simply, "Of course he has a room, Cas is family."

Dean regularly sat with the angel when Cas was in a gloomy mood. The pair usually watched movies together with Dean making a show of laughing too enthusiastically whenever Cas made a joke. Whenever Cas wasn't looking however, she caught Dean throwing worried, furrowed glances in the angel's direction.

When Dean wasn't eating or worrying about everyone else, he disappeared into the huge garage. There were several cars in the garage, Beth knew because she had been in there once, but she never went in the garage because she didn't want to bother Dean. There was a constant flow of rock music drifting from behind the closed door and occasionally you could hear loud metal clanking and shouted curses.

The only real time she saw Dean was during dinner. Some days he just came and just sat at the table while she cooked, making jokes and arguing about music—whether a certain band sucked or was good, or what the best album was from certain artists. Beth loved these conversations. She'd always wanted to study music and Dean knew more about music than anyone she'd ever met—or at least he knew about certain kinds of music. However, most days he actually assisted her in the kitchen. It surprised her at first but she secretly loved whenever he just stood up and wordlessly grabbed the spices and the pan to help her. He seemed more relaxed in the kitchen than anywhere else and Beth found she couldn't control her smile as she watched him stomp effortlessly around the kitchen. It was one of the only times the crease between his brows disappeared.

Her nights were filled with reading. Beth stayed up late in the library pouring over the lore books, trying to learn what the others had spent their whole lives learning, while Charlie sat clicking away furiously on her several different computers and tablets. She liked Charlie. The girl was easy to get along with, funny in that self-deprecating way where her jokes never insulted anyone else. At times, when Beth allowed herself to get lost in her own dreams late at night, she pretended that Charlie and her were just college roommates working on class assignments late at night.

Life wasn't as easy as her college-life dreams but it was better than she ever imagined life in the apocalypse could be.

Beth became immensely comfortable in her life at the Winchester bunker.

Although she missed being outside in the fresh air and trees, she didn't miss the walkers. She hadn't seen one for weeks and it was easy to forget that the world was falling apart outside of their metal fortress. It was easier than she would have thought to forget their horrible, gurgling growls. At the prison, she could always hear the noise of them crowding against the fences.

But it was quiet here.

Well, mostly quiet. There was always keyboard tapping from Charlie and music from Dean.

/

"I've got it!" The shout woke him up.

"I've got it! I've got it! I am a fracking genius! Steven Moffat will write an episode inspired by my brilliance!"

He recognized Charlie's shouts echoing off through the halls. Dean checked his watch as he dragged himself out of the warmth of his bed. It was just after four.

Four o'clock. In the morning.

"Get up and meet me in the kitchen, bitches!"

 _If she's making me get off the memory foam then this damn well better be important_ , he thought to himself while wiping the sleep from his eyes.

The red head was practically bouncing in her chair with excitement. Everyone else piled into the kitchen to join her. Cas looked respectfully curious and rested as always. But Sam's shirt, which he had probably tugged on in the hallway, was inside out and backwards so the tag was sticking out under his chin. Beth's hair was matted on one side but she still didn't even seem tired.

"You guys are not going to believe it!" Charlie beamed with elation.

Neither of the sleepy Winchesters responded but that didn't dampen her mood.

"What did you find out, Charlie?" Beth asked as she ruffled her hands through her hair.

"I decrypted his systems. Each folder had three different layers of encryption and then each file had another layer. It was like DC40 times a million. Each one needed a different cipher and there were lots of ghost files—"

"English, please, Red," Dean interrupted her.

"I finished cracking Kevin's files," the techy responded with a smile wide enough to be a toothpaste advertisement.

"So… so we've got the demon tablet?" Sam asked with cautious optimism.

"Oh yeah. We've got it," Charlie confirmed.

"That's my girl," Dean smiled affectionately. Feeling energized even though a second ago he'd been exhausted.

"What do we do now?" Beth asked, eyes flicking back and forth between the brothers.

"Now we save the friggin' world!" Charlie looked like she could break into a dance on the kitchen table.

"You make it sound so easy," Beth said skeptically. "Can we really do that?"

"They've done it many times before. If anyone can do it, it is certainly the Winchesters," Cas finally spoke from the corner, his blue eyes meeting Dean's with a flash of pride before the emotion puttered out like a flickering light. The angel had been a wreck since coming back from Purgatory, hardly speaking unless he was commenting on some movie they were watching. Dean didn't like leaving him alone because as soon has he was alone, the angel became twitchy and haunted—Dean knew it was from the effects of being in purgatory for so long. It was nice to see that glimmer of his old friend when he smiled, even if it only lasted for a second.

"So what do we do, Charlie? What does it say?" Sam moved to look over her shoulder at the computer screen.

"I don't know. It has to be translated still," Charlie answered and Dean felt his heart drop. There was no way to translate it without Kevin.

"What do you mean it has to be translated?" Dean growled.

"Kevin encrypted multiple files. Some were just dummy files put there to waste people's time and to distract from the real thing. But once I figured those out, I found the ones that were real. One looks like a copy of the original demon tablet, another is some kind of translation into other strange symbols. It looks like one of the files may be a legend... I'm not sure, I've never seen any of this before," she clicked a few buttons and then turned her computer screen around. "Do you guys recognize it?"

"Yeah, I remember this from that Ancient Mayan Hieroglyphics class I took last semester at Magic Nonsense University," Dean huffed as he leaned back in his seat and dragged his hand across his face.

"No, I've never seen it before. But maybe there will be something in the men of letter's books," Sam suggested.

"Didn't you say there was a legend? Can't we just translate it ourselves?" Beth asked timidly, as if she was afraid there might be backlash.

"It doesn't have translations into English for all of the symbols… but maybe we can get the gist," Charlie proposed.

"You want to attempt to close the gates of hell with just our best guess?" Dean asked skeptically.

When the red head shrugged and then nodded, Dean smiled and replied, "That's my girl."

"Alright, well. I decrypted all of Kevin's files so my work is done. I'm going to sleep. I'm gonna need at least 15 hours to sleep off this migraine I've got so no one disturb my dwelling or you will feel a wrath worse than Sauron. Night!" And with that, Charlie left her laptop in front of Sam and exited the kitchen abruptly. Dean was happy she would finally get some rest. She'd only been sleeping about 2 hours a night while trying to crack all of Kevin's codes, and the hours she was asleep was usually just sitting up in a chair in the library.

Sam looked up from the screen, "Is any of this Enochian, Cas?"

Cas looked at the computer, shook his head and then wandered out of the kitchen aimlessly. Sam sat in the chair Charlie had vacated and began typing away furiously—Dean guessed he was already working on the English translation.

Beth was leaning over the table now, palms on the table and focused on the same screen as Sam. For the first time, he took notice of what she was wearing. A large t-shirt that looked like it had belonged to a body builder at one point, long enough that he couldn't tell if she was wearing anything underneath it. As she leaned forward to inspect the screen, the shirt rode up a little more and exposed another inch of leg. Before he could even realize what he was doing, he found himself wishing he could reach out and run his hands up the back of her thighs.

But then, as if she could feel his eyes on her, Beth's head snapped over to him and he averted his gaze.

 _What the hell is wrong with you, you old perv?_ He yelled at himself internally. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her flush and nervously tug the hem of her shirt down.

"Why don't we all go back to sleep for a few more hours? We'll figure this out tomorrow," Dean instructed.

That was a good idea. This way Beth would have time to get properly dressed before he'd see her in the kitchen again. And maybe he would be fully rested and could control himself from leering at her like a creep.

All of them shuffled out of the kitchen and to their own respective bedrooms. By the time Dean was in bed, Beth had left his mind. He was already wondering what they would have to do to close the gates of hell. And he found himself consumed with worry for Cas—the man had his grace back but he was still acting like he was in a walking coma. He really needed to try to figure out a way to help the fallen angel.

/

 **Hope you liked it! Please leave a review! xoxo**


	14. Won't get fooled again

a/n: Thanks for reading and reviewing! Shout out to: Fatalromance, thehelper900, BooksWriteMusic, Ryane, AJ Granger and RHatch89.

thehelper900: YES! We will get to see the rest of the original TWD gang again. I have some interesting plans in mind for when Maggie and Daryl see who Beth has been hanging around. And a kickass entrance for the Winchesters and Beth to reintroduce themselves to the family.

AJ Granger: So happy to read your long and insightful reviews as always 3 There is a Dean/Beth garage scene and some badass Beth fight scenes in the works. ;)

I debated for a long time whether to keep this chapter or omit it entirely since I normally hate reading flashbacks in stories. In the end I decided to keep it since it explains some behavior that may seem out of character for Dean. Flashbacks are in italics.

Enjoy!

/

 **Chapter 14: Won't Get Fooled Again**

"Please, please, please!" Charlie practically begged as she jumped up and down.

"We don't even need to go on a run, we have everything we need here," Dean grumbled while turning his attention back under the hood of an old red truck. He had systematically been replacing parts on all of the spare cars in the garage. Even though Baby was always going to be his ride of choice, he still wanted to be sure that there were other running cars for others as back up just in case they needed to split up in a hurry.

"It doesn't matter if we have everything. I need to see the sun!" the red head insisted wistfully. "I used to joke about spending days in the basement and never seeing the sun. When I was in the middle of a hot streak of WOW and stayed inside for days. But even then it was maximum of 3 days, maybe 4, before my butt started hurting so much from sitting that I had to get up and go outside." Charlie babbled but Dean wasn't paying much attention. "Dean! I need a mental health day. I need to go outside and get fresh air. We've been stuck under this concrete block for 6 weeks."

"We've been trying to translate the demon tablet, Charlie. Closing the gates of hell forever seem like a task you just take a break from so you can work on your tan?" The hunter rummaged around in the toolbox next to him while still managing to raise his eyebrows disapprovingly.

Charlie rolled her eyes and handed him the socket wrench he was looking for. "You can't possibly be serious. You think after all of this, I'd risk dying of skin cancer?"

He tucked his head back under the hood and dropped the suspension, not even bothering to respond.

"I'm going out there, Dean. You're not my babysitter. You're not my dad. I don't have to ask for permission. I need some fresh air for a change... I think we all do."

Dean stopped what he was doing and looked at his friend. She had dark circles under her eyes, her skin was so pale it was almost translucent, and even though they had plenty of food it seemed like she had lost weight.

"Dammit, okay Charlie. We'll go tomorrow. But we're not crossing any state lines."

"Thank you, Dean!" She smiled and hugged him before running out of the garage shouting, "He said yes!" Dean noticed Beth was waiting right outside of the garage door and the two girls celebrated.

An unconscious smile spread across his face at seeing them happy. The last few weeks he had watched them laughing while doing research in the library or heard their hysterical laughter coming from Beth's room when they watched old cartoons. They acted like sisters in a Disney movie. He knew Beth missed her family and Charlie had always been an orphan so it was nice to see both women getting along so well.

However, his smile faded as he thought about what he just agreed to. He kept working on the truck but his mind wandered to the last few times the Winchesters had left the bunker.

At the beginning, when the Croatoan virus first hit, the brothers were able to help a lot of people. Getting them weapons, freely giving humans valuable information about how to fight off the croats and stay safe.

But as time went on it got harder.

People became darker.

People stopped trusting.

Strangers no longer trusted the Winchesters or wanted outside help. People stared seeing the living humans as bigger threats than the croats. Sam and Dean had come across several groups who tried to kill them just to steal their weapons and food. The end of the world had brought out the worst in people. More often than not, the people they met on the road were too far gone to be helped by the brothers nowadays.

Dean spent his whole life fighting to save human lives. Sure, there had always been bad apples out there—people like Bella who would sell her soul to a demon to kill her parents or Gordon who got countless people killed in his quest for revenge. But generally he had always believed that people were good and worth risking his life for. Recently, his thoughts about the human race had changed. People either died and turned into murderous croats or lived and morphed into murderous assholes.

Beth was the first person they'd come across in the last year that hadn't tried to kill them or steal their stuff. Beth was the first person in a year that they had actually saved.

Although, Dean really wanted to be able to actually save her, and everyone else on the damn planet, from the croats. Every Supernatural disease they'd ever come across had a cure—vampirism, lycanthropy, even the expulsion of angels after they had been invited in was not impossible. But the Croatoan virus was deadly. They tried every spell they could find. For a while, the brothers had scoured the states for people who had been bitten but not turned yet to try to save them. However, all they had been left with was heaps of reanimated corpses. Even those who were possessed by demons were not immune to the toxin. The only exceptions were angels… and Sam.

The day they found out Sam was immune was probably the worst day of Dean's life and it was seared into his memory with terrifying accuracy.

 _They parked the Impala a few miles away from the house, just outside of Salt Lake City. The city had been long overrun by croats and they needed to go in quietly without drawing attention to themselves. They'd spent several months tracking down grimoire and lore books—anything that might have information or a possible cure for the Croatoan virus. So they were headed to another Men of Letters chapter house hidden in one of the oldest buildings in the city. They killed croats easily and silently as they passed through block by block._

 _"I can't believe they named a sacred building with the entrance to a secret vault of Supernatural knowledge after something that Winnie the Pooh could crack," Dean quipped as their footsteps silently thudded through the city._

 _"I don't know Dean, I remember when you got stung by a bee when you were eight and you cried," Sam laughed before covering his mouth to stifle the noise._

 _"Shut up, Bitch."_

 _"Jerk."_

 _The brothers spent a few hours combing the bunker. They found a few useful trinkets—a handful of demon killing bullets that would work with the colt if only they still had it, a set of candles that supposedly have the power to trap witches when lit in a pentagram, a sword soaked in the blood of a Norse God._

 _"Look at this," Sam called from the main desk in what must have been the MOL library. "It's a protection spell." Sam explained as Dean looked over his shoulder at the page he was reading. Before they had a chance to really look the spell over thoroughly, they heard screams from outside. Sam shoved the book into his backpack along with everything else they found that day and Dean grabbed his machete from where he'd left it on the table._

 _They ran outside to find six civilians followed by a hoard of croats pouring into the courtyard. Without taking the time to consider, he raced towards the humans, he noticed a small brunette girl, she must have been about ten, was limping. He rushed towards her, chopped down the five croats hot on her heels and then picked her up and threw her onto his back._

 _"Go right! There's a ladder to the roof," Sam yelled over the sound of the undead growling. Dean was grateful now that Sam had bothered to do a walk around the courtyard when they first got here. The Men Of Letters house was old and wooden—sure it was heavily warded since it was a MOL chapter house but it was abandoned so long ago that he doubted it had any updated wards for the croats. So as far as he was concerned it was just a wooden house built in the 1800s. It would never hold up against a mob of this size._

 _They got the group safely up the ladder to the rooftop. Dean knew they would be safe up there so they all took the time regroup. The brothers bandaged the newcomers up, gave them food and water out of their packs and then tried to devise a plan to get them off of the roof._

 _"We only have a few hours of daylight left. So either we go now or we will have to wait until morning," Sam said._

 _The brothers looked at the family, terrified and exhausted. The father's name was Eric, his wife Sarah and the little girl Dean had grabbed was their daughter Melanie. Eric explained that he was a doctor. The other three were people he worked with at the hospital: a nurse, another doctor and the pastor from the hospital's church. Dean had almost laughed out loud to realize that even after the apocalypse the Winchesters still managed to find a holy worker._

 _"Please, we need rest. We've been running for hours," Eric said in a soft voice, his gray hair was wet with sweat and was streaked with blood._

 _"No problem. We will rest here and then in the morning we'll find you guys a car and some supplies. You guys get some sleep, we're safe up here," Dean reassured them. The brothers gave them everything they had. Dean watched as Sam gave Melanie his flannel and the pastor his jacket, leaving the younger Winchester in only a gray t-shirt. Dean followed Sam's example and the brothers spent the night shivering on the rooftop watching over this family._

 _By the time the sun rose the next morning, most of the croats had wandered away, those that were left had no memory of the family now hiding on the rooftop so they shuffled aimlessly around the courtyard. Dean made sure everyone had weapons since most of their group had lost them yesterday while running and fighting. The group of humans had no problem getting down the ladder and the brothers cleared a path through the croats._

 _When they came along a row of parked cars, Dean began searching for to hotwire for the family. As soon as the engine revved he heard the click of a gun behind his head._

 _"Stand up slowly," he heard a low voice say._

 _He complied, turning around slowly to see one of his own guns pointed at his chest by the nurse. Eric and the pastor were both pointing guns at Sam. Dean could kick himself for this. The Winchesters had given them the easy weapons, keeping the harder to wield weapons like machetes for themselves. Dean's machete was lying on the passenger seat of the car he had just finished hotwiring. Dean armed them to keep them safe and instead they were going to use their own weapons against them._

 _"Just take the damn car and leave," Dean groused._

 _"We need everything," Eric explained. "I have a family to care for. We need all the supplies you have."_

 _Dean just shook his head in defeat. Looking around at the faces of the other, it was clear that none of them were surprised by this. The group had obviously done this before—tricked people into trusting them and then turned on them._

 _"Put their bags in the car Sarah," he ordered. His wife quickly and efficiently complied; grabbing Sam and Dean's backpacks and tossing them into the van that Dean had hotwired for them._

 _Fucking bottom feeders—Dean thought to himself._

 _He was exhausted and freezing without a jacket. He just wanted to get rid of these assholes to get gone so that he could get back to the Impala. They had more clothes and weapons there. He knew that the brothers would be fine._

 _Melanie and Sarah piled into the car now full of their bags._

 _"Now you two just back up until you reach the edge of the road."_

 _Sam and Dean complied. If their attackers hadn't been human, the brothers would have fought. But neither of them wanted to attack humans, there were so few humans left these days that hurting them seemed pointless._

 _Dean heard the crunch of gravel under his feet and knew he was off the road now._

 _"Now we can't have the two of you following us can we?" Eric looked to his companions for support._

 _The pastor nodded in agreement and before the Winchesters could even protest, the pastor pulled the trigger._

 _The bang echoed among the nearby trees. Dean waited to feel pain, but instead he felt nothing. In only seconds, his hands searched briefly for any warm spots of blood draining from his body. But his hands were clean. What caught his attention was a small pained gasp from his left._

 _"That should keep you boys occupied for a while," one of the male voices said, but Dean wasn't paying any attention. His mind registered the movement behind him, car doors closing and tires crunching along asphalt. However, his eyes only saw his brother… and the red spot growing from his t-shirt._

 _"Sammy, don't …" Dean pulled off his shirt to hold pressure on the bleeding wound. His mind raced, and he knew that they had to get out of there now. The croats would have heard the gunshot and would descend on them any minute. Dean wouldn't be able to hold off the croats and take care of his brother._

 _Sam's eyes were still aware and he sputtered in pain but it didn't seem to be able to string together a full sentence instead he stammered, "Dean…. what…"_

 _" Just hold that on there, Sam." Dean instructed as he helped Sam over to a small car. He looked at Sam and saw that there was an exit wound on his back. At least that was one thing he could be grateful for. Dean put his brother in the car and considered trying to hotwire it, but if he could get to the Impala it would have medical supplies and weapons. Sam really needed those medical supplies right now. "I'm running for the Impala. You stay here and hold pressure on that damn thing."_

 _Sam's eyes appeared dark and frantic as they stared up at him. "I gotta grab our shit, Sam. I've got meds in there. I'll be right back. Just stay here and hold pressure on that wound," Dean repeated. This time Sam nodded and Dean saw his brother's grip tighten on the shirt that was nearly saturated with blood already._

 _Dean ran harder than he ever had before. He tried not to picture Sam's pale face as his feet pounded across the pavement. His lungs burned and he felt shooting pains in his sides, but he didn't slow down. A few croats crossed his path and even though Dean wasn't carrying a weapon he took them down without breaking a stride—pushing them over, smashing their face against a nearby tree or sometimes he just ignored them and kept running. When he got into the Impala he slammed the pedal to the floor. He had been running for more than 15 minutes but the Impala covered the distance in less than 2 minutes. When the blue sedan he'd left Sam in came into view, Dean's heart nearly stopped._

 _Croat's had swarmed the car; their growls were so loud he could hear them over the Impala's revving engine._

 _Dean didn't slow down, but instead he slammed the car through the crowd of bodies, taking down as many croats as he could. He grabbed the crowbar from under the front seat and jumped out. He could see that the passenger window had been smashed in by the croats… then he saw nothing but red. Blood splattered as he smashed skulls. Then, suddenly, the air was clear, there was no more growling, no more corpses between him and his brother._

 _Dean pulled open the car door and stopped cold. "… Sammy?" He questioned hesitantly._

 _There was a dark pool of blood covering the floor of the car but a soft moan told Dean that Sam was still alive._

 _But the bite mark on his brother's right shoulder made his blood run cold._

 _"Let's move, Sammy," Dean wasn't going to let this stop him. He hefted his little—but much bigger—brother up and dragged him to the Impala. He pulled out his medical kit and cleaned Sam's wounds. Knowing that it was useless. Nothing could disinfect the Croatoan virus._

 _"Dean… just do it… do it… now," Sam said weakly._

 _"Not a chance in hell." Dean started to patch up Sam's wounds the best he could before grabbing the IV from his bag. The Winchester's had been in the hospital enough times to know they shared the same blood type so Dean started draining his own blood while he put in a line on Sam. "You just need some blood, and some rest. And we'll find a spell or a crossroads to fix you up."_

 _Dean wished they weren't so damn far from Kansas. He thought of all the books back in the Bunker and knew he must have missed something. There had to be something that would save Sam._

 _He pushed Baby to her maximum speed, the engine was heating up and the stench of the croats rotting in the grille was nauseating. But he slammed on the breaks at the first crossroads he came to._

 _"Dean don't!" Sam barked through clenched teeth. Dean ignored him as he rummaged through the trunk for the box. He dug the hole in record time, dropped in the box and waited. No traps, no knife, he was ready to make a deal for real this time. Dean begged for a demon to show._

 _He waited._

 _And waited._

 _His heart was pounding in his ears._

 _But nothing happened._

 _Sam's breathing was labored as Dean got back into the car. Dean pulled out the Enochian spell book, but he couldn't read any of it._

 _"Please…. Dean… don't let me… turn." Sam's voice was stronger now than it had been before Dean had given him his blood, but his words were still coming in bursts. "Just… give me… a gun… I'll do it… myself."_

 _"Don't you give up on me Sammy. We've been to hell and back, you think a little zombie bite is gonna be the end of a Winchester? Nah." He said with as much bravado as he could muster. Sam's eyes were closed in pain so he couldn't see that his brother's face was filled with just as much pain._

 _"You'll be okay Sammy. I'm gonna take care of it." And then, Dean started to pray. He didn't trust any of the angels anymore and he wasn't entirely convinced that God hadn't jumped ship a long time ago. But he prayed anyway._

 _Dean began driving again after a while, heading back towards Kansas because he wasn't sure what else to do. He kept the music off while he drove and continued to pray. Sometimes he prayed in his head and other times he muttered out loud. Meanwhile he waited for Sam's breathing to stop, for his corpse to reanimate with the Croatoan virus. But nothing happened. Sam's breathing remained labored throughout the drive._

 _The sun was just starting to set when they arrived back at the bunker._

 _Dean was hesitant to wake Sam up, unsure if this would somehow break the trance that seemed to be keeping him tethered to life. But when Dean stopped the car, Sam's eyelids fluttered open._

 _"We're back, Sammy. Let's go see what we missed in the lore. There has to be something to keep you alive." Dean walked around to the passenger side of the car, ready to help Sam up._

 _"No, Dean. Wait a minute," Sam's voice was strong. He looked pale but he was able to sit up on his own._

 _"What's wrong Sam?"_

 _"Nothing. Nothing's wrong," he said as his eyes searched his own body, as if shocked to see his own limbs. "I feel fine. I feel the same."_

 _Sam peeled the bandage off his shoulder. Where the bite had been just hours ago, now there was nothing but a smooth white scar. In fact, it looked like it had been there for years._

 _/_

That family had been one of the last group of humans that the Winchester's had come across. There had been numerous humans who screwed them over before that day in Salt Lake City. But none had gotten closer to killing them. That damn pastor had just shot, no real warning, no drawn out James Bond villain speech.

That day, Dean had sworn not to trust people anymore. However, both brothers knew that they wouldn't be able to stop themselves from helping people if they crossed paths with other humans. So they tried their best to avoid people when they ventured out of the bunker. They spent most of their time tracking down old books and magical objects in order to try new things to end the apocalypse.

They never got an answer as to how Sam was saved from the Croat bite. Sam believed it had been prayer. Dean let Sam maintain his beliefs. But Dean suspected it had something to do with the demon blood that ran through Sam's veins. They never tested the theory with another bite. And never wanted to.

Now he had just agreed to a friggin' field trip for the girls and Dean had even more people to protect. Instead of only worrying about Sam, he now had to worry about Sam, Cas, Charlie and Beth.

He just hoped that they didn't run into any people while they were gone.

/

a/n: Please review and follow. Seeing new follows/reviews is what inspires me to come back to the story and keep writing!

Next chapter... we get some topless swimming. Not going to say who is shirtless... you'll just have to follow to find out! ;)


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